Light Up My Lover's Way
by NovemberMurray
Summary: Every time he leaves her because he knows her life will be better off without him. Every time she falls further into the tragic spiral of her human life. Every time she finds her way back to him to remind him of how strong and kind humanity can be. Every time she saves him and he save her. Carlisle and Esme's love story (slightly AU mostly cannon)
1. Chapter 1

**XX WARNING!** **XX** The last chapter of this story is **RATED M**. If that is going to bother you DON'T READ! As far as M rated stuff goes though I'm pretty tame. **XX**

Author's Note: This is an alternative story for Esme and Carlisle that only slightly contradicts the given story. I'm not much for 'love-at-first-sight' so I switched up some things. The end results are all about the same. The title is from a Billie Holiday song (yes it's not quite as old as 1921 but give me a break) called "If You Were Mine."

* * *

Light Up My Lover's Way by November Murray

* * *

For the reminisce of night

The day will dawn with greater light

And ghosts that follow in my wake

Shall at your sight but quiv'ring shake

And flee into their native lands

In my memory's darker bands

And with the memories of despair

Those of your love are dearer there

* * *

Chapter 1: Meetings

.

**Esme**

.

When I first laid eyes on Carlisle Cullen I knew he was a dream. For one, he wasn't Dr. Brooks, our middle aged balding local doctor who's hands we always clammy and trembled slightly. For another, he was as beautiful, the way I pictured an angel. His expression as he looked down at me was softly loving, compassionate and pitying but in a purely abstract sense. Maybe it was the lack of empathy—and by that I mean only that he did not _know_ from his own experience the pain I felt. Or had felt. My world was narrowed and fuzzy now, the pain only a mild nuisance. That was the other reason I knew he was a dream: the opiates.

The angel above me spoke, his voice like the whisper of wind and distant tolling of bells but it meant nothing to my muddled brain. The walls of the small wood paneled office were already closing in on me. I felt safe knowing he was watching over me, standing at my bedside but also sad because when I awoke he would be gone again. My angel frowned then and I felt my lips mirroring his actions. He turned away and spoke again, his voice deeper. He looked back at me with an expression that might have been meant to reassure me but all I could focus on was the little crease in his brow and under it his golden eyes locked on mine. Then the world faded out.

.

I awoke again hours latter feeling exhausted, my body heavy and lethargic. My eyelids were reluctant to even flutter and even the dim evening light thought the single window was bright. I groaned softly.

"Esme?" My mother's voice as my elbow questioned.

"What?" I muttered, finding my voice as sluggish as my eyelids.

"She's awake?" Dr. Brooks asked and his loud footsteps crossed to my side. "Nice to see your eyes again, Miss Platt. Mrs. Hersh told Dr. Cullen she knew how to administer a pain-reliever." My eyes managed to focus on the familiar man shaking his head over me. "City doctors, so stingy," he said to himself with a frown.

I looked down at myself, struggling to prop up my torso with my arms. My right leg bulged under the sheet twice as large as the left. Slowly the memories came back to me of climbing the old apple tree in the back yard. I liked to sit up there and sketch the cattle and the horses in the field but today—or was it yesterday?—my pencil had slid between my fingers and without thinking I had grabbed for it, reaching out into the empty air. The branch on which I was resting gave me up to the ground with the soft ripping of fabric, flutter of paper and the rustling of leaves. Falling had been much quieter than I imagined. Then I hit the ground.

"Will my leg be alright?" I asked Dr. Brooks.

"Of course dear. I was assured by Dr. Cullen that it was a simple fibula fracture. You'll have to stay off your feet for a while, 7 or 8 weeks to be safe. Then you'll be back to dancing with the young boys." I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks at Mr. Brooks words.

"I—I don't think I'm quite old enough for that." I muttered with a sidelong glance at my mother who was frowning at Mr. Brooks. My small hopeful smile crumbled. Miss Dorothy Rose Davis down the road was only 15, a year younger than me, and she was allowed go to the local dances held at the nearby town hall once a month. Mother said it was because she had three unmarried older sisters but I didn't see how that made her different from me.

"Who is Dr. Cullen?" I asked instead, steering myself away from the long debated topic.

"He was the doctor the Columbus hospital was kind enough to send while I was away. I dear say, after working in the city it must have been mighty dull around her until you came in Miss Platt. Else he would have felt the entire trip a waste of his time." Dr. Brooks shook his head with clear contempt. I thought I heard him mutter "City people," under his breath.

"Perhaps you were already a bit foggy with the medicine," Mother said and helped me to lie down again.

"I suppose so," I said softly, thinking back to the face I has seen in my dreams. Certainly no living person could look so beautiful and kind. He must truly have been an angel. I wish I could see him again I thought. I knew at least now I would have a face in my mind to which I could pray too. Somehow sending my hopes and worries to God would be easier if I imagined that angel as the messenger.

So he became my companion through the long Sunday mornings and in the evenings at my mother's side while I mended my father's clothes and she read aloud from her well-worn book of sermons. I imagined him sitting next to me through the pastor's long sermons or placing a reassuring hand on my father's back as he sat at the dinning table in the long fire-lit evenings with his tired head bent. I used to think it was in prayer but later I wondered if it wasn't in defeat.

The day came when I did go to the dances, when my mother dressed me in white and pale green ribbons, curled my auburn hair and pinched my cheeks. The day came when I danced with young men and smiled warmly until I was scolded by my mother for my overt pleasure. The day came when I was introduced to Mr. Charles Evenson and smiled shyly as I was supposed to though I did not feel like smiling much at all. I knew no matter what I did my mother would find something to criticize. The day came when Charles Evenson called at our small farmhouse with a half dozen tulips and sat by my side in sparse conversation. The day came when Charles Evenson made my parents a proposition that my mother readily accepted on my behalf with restrained elation and vain pride in her guidance of me, without which I would never have made so advantageous a match. The day came that I was married in the little church where my angel and I endured many muggy summer or drafty winter mornings to Charles Walter Evenson. If my angel had truly been there he would have been frowning, he would have barred me from entering, bid me turn and run while I still could. But that day I could hardly bear to think of him because I knew God had forsaken me.

.

**Carlisle**

.

They say, even for humans, that scent is the best memory trigger. Hers hit me like stepping out of the cool shade of a marble hall into the overbearing Italian sun. I felt it all the way down my throat like burning sand trickling into my lungs. It took me back to a little wooden building in the countryside seven years ago that was crystal clear in my immortal memory. A little girl was laid out on the single patient bed in the small building, her right leg splayed at an awkward angle and her brow beaded with sweat. Her smell filled the room: apple blossoms, spring rain, cedar, the cotton smell of her clothing, the smell of fresh dirt on her bare feet, the faint smell of the cheep sheet of paper clutched in her left hand, and the syrup too-sweet smell of opiates that never failed to turn my stomach; through the last smell nothing could be appetizing. She looked up at me with wide brown eyes, clouded in drug induced confusion. Then she surprised me; she smiled. Usually under the influence humans were more inclined to listen to their baser instincts that shied away from my strangeness, innately sensing the danger I posed. She showed none of that. Her smile was easy and accepting as she looked up at me and I couldn't help but smile back.

This memory played through my mind in the fraction of a second as I let the doorknob turn back to it's usual state as I swung the door open. By the time I was fully in the room it had passed and I was looking at a young woman, not the teenage girl I remembered, sitting on the examination table. She was dressed conservatively for Columbus in her long dark dress, simple white gloves, and modest jewelry but her beige coat was well made suggesting she was not poor, certainly not the kind of woman that I usually saw this close to the West Side. Regardless of all of this she would have stood out to me. Without the sickening opiates, the unique smell of her blood, stronger as I approached her in the confined space of the examination room, was the sweetest I had known in a hundred years. Only one scent in my memory rivaled her and I clung to the memory of that victory. I had resisted then and I could resist now, I told myself. I refused to acknowledge that then I had been at a distance not standing close enough to feel the warmth of her body pulsing with every loud, wet heartbeat. I swallowed the venom pooling in my mouth.

"Miss Platt," I said reading off of her intake sheet, "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. What brings you here today?"

She looked up quickly from her folded hands and her lips parted softly. I could see dust moats in the air dragged towards her by the inaudible gasp she stifled. Did she recognize me? My own reaction surprised me. I knew in my rational mind that it would be far better for me if she didn't but at the same time I wanted her to know I was the man who fixed her broken leg, the man she smiled at all those years ago. I could see thoughts swirling in her large eyes but they were a mystery to me.

"My hand," she finally managed to say rather abruptly as she lifted her gloved hand out toward mine. I had just raised mine to take it when she said, "the other one. I mean—I-It's Esme. My name that is, please, call me Esme. It's very nice to meet you Dr. Cullen."

She stumbled over her own introduction in such an innocently sincere way that I hae to smile despite the blistering feeling of my throat. I shook her offered hand: soft fabric against my smooth cold skin leaving ghost images of the touch in surprisingly comfortable heat.

"Like wise. May I?" I held out my other hand for the one she cradled in her lap.

"Yes, of course," She said and lifted it to me only to flinch as soon as my finger touched her palm.

"Tender?" I asked.

"Yes," she admitted with shame that I did not understand.

"Would you remove your glove?" I asked. Her nod sent her smell wafting around me and I forced my lungs to freeze mid breath. I watched her struggle with the glove, easing it off her swollen injury carefully, hissing softly under her breath at the pain it caused her. I could smell her perspiration as she worked gently. I frowned.

"Ah!" She bit down on her lips at the last tug on the glove and her shoulders flinched. Tears sprung into her eyes and vainly, she tried to blink them back. Finally free of her hand, she put the glove aside on the operating table and dabbed with the back of her wrist at the corners of her eyes awkwardly.

"Here," I pulled the handkerchief I kept in my pocket, mostly for appearances shake.

"T-thank you," she whispered, her voice strangled slightly with threatening tears. I wondered how much pain she was hiding behind her composure. She dabbed her eyes quickly and took a deep breath before offering up her hand to me.

I examined it quickly, forgoing the usual moments of fake contemplation I used to appear more human in an effort to avoid the aching burn _feeling_ her heartbeat under my fingers caused. Through my agitation at the physical touch I was relieved to find nothing broken only very badly bruised. I could see a distinct pattern of constriction on her creamy skin where blood was just beginning to pool. I noted the thinner area on one side of her wrist and larger section on the other, like a large thumb and palm had gripped her there.

Then I had to breath again to speak and the _need_ was somehow worse than before. Dear God, I prayed more ardently then I had in decades, do not let me hurt this girl. Whether he heard me or not I was thankful; I remained myself.

"It looks like a simple sprain, painful but easily healed." I saw her shoulders visibly relax though she was still worrying the handkerchief in her good hand nervously. She looked over her wrist, checking the bruise, barely visible to human eyes. "I will have to insist that you refrain from wearing gloves until it is quite healed. No need of fashion is worth risking further injury."

"Will I be able to draw again?" She asked quickly, her head snapping up from her wrist to mine, leaning in to better look at my face. For the barest fraction of a second my control slipped as her warmth burned against my skin through my clothes and her smell saturated the air around me, and I leaned in toward her. No! Only hundreds of years kept me standing still as she looked pleadingly into my eyes.

"Draw?" I forced my mind to focus on her question. Of course, drawing! I remembered the paper clutched in her teenage hand even as she lay with a broken leg and the smudges of lead on her fingers. Is she an artist? Does she draw only for herself? What does she draw? Questions filled my mind unbidden but they were a welcome distraction from the thirst. "Yes, I believe you'll recover full function of your hand in just a few short weeks. If you are worried I could fashion you a brace and suggest avoiding using that hand as much as possible." I took the excuse to turn away from her, rummaging behind me for the supplies I would need.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Cullen." She sounded relieved.

I rummaged through the drawers even though I knew where everything was. I had to stall. The idea of touching her skin again, _feeling_… I didn't know if my control went so far even now. I cursed my own weakness. I cursed God. I cursed the old vampire who had made me. I cursed my own father whom I had not given a thought for nearly a decade. All because I could not stand next to this human girl and ask her about her drawings.

"It seems my nurse has misplaced the bandages," I said easily palming the roll of cotton strips into my coat pocket. "If you go to the front desk she will fit you a brace, I assure you she's as good as I am at these things." I turned around and forced myself to smile at Esme Platt.

"Of course, thank you doctor." She said getting up and gathering in her coat in her good arm.

"Do you have someone at home to help you while you recover?" I asked. Was she married? Children? She was not too young for those things now. She clearly did not live with her family out in the country anymore. What had brought her to Columbus?

"Yes, I will be fine, I'm sure," She said with a smile just as genuine as my own. She had answered in the affirmative but somehow I felt that she meant no.

"Good," I lied. "Take care of yourself, don't lift anything heavier than a loaf of bread with that wrist for a while and keep an eye on the swelling. If it doesn't get better in a few weeks…" _come back_ was what I meant to say but I stopped myself. There was barely a hitch in my speech that human would notice. "…take it to Columbus Hospital. They have newer equipment that will help them get a better look at what's going on."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen," Esme said again as she stood to go. I held my breath preemptively and smiled as best I could. Her eyes lingered on me a few moments too long before the door closed behind her. I listed to the tapping of her heals down the wooden hall floor and waited for them to turn the corner before I opened the one window. Blessed fresh air, muggy with summer heat and pregnant with the human scents of the city and chemical smells of the automobiles filled my lungs. After her smell even the smell of fresh blood, so long as it wasn't hers, would be a relief. I heard her soft voice in the building behind me as she talked with the nurse. Voyeuristically I listened in on their conversation.

"A nasty sprain," Nurse Hall noted. "How did you manage that?"

"It was just an accident. I fell on the stairs and caught myself," Esme replied, her voice light but her heart pounding.

"Probably carrying too much as well I imagine."

"Y-yes, something like that," Esme replied so softly it was almost lost in the noises of the surrounding offices and the street outside.

"Well if Dr. Cullen thinks this is all you need then you can rest easy."

"Is he very good, Dr. Cullen I mean?"

"Oh yes, young though. I must say it's strange working for a doctor half my age."

"H—has be been here long?" Esme asked and I felt the ghost of a beat in my chest. She did remember me. Fear or excitement filled me in equal measures. I didn't like Columbus any more than other places I had lived, but if I left I would never see her again. Foolish! I admonished myself. You could hardly stand to be in the same room with her yet you want to see her again? Just to check up on her injuries, I told myself but I knew that was a lie. She would be fine, of that I was sure—So long as I didn't harm her.

"He came to us a few years ago from the north side. We could never figure out why an upstanding doctor like him would pass up better work for a place here but he just smiles whenever we ask and says he 'didn't fit in up in Beachwood'. Did you know him up there, Ma'am?"

I held my breath.

"No, no I—I've never lived in Beachwood."

"Oh of course not. Listen to me fishing for gossip. Well that just about does it. Keep that dry and tight. If it does come loose just pop back in and I'll get you all fixed up."

I breathed out. Turning back to that room that still carried traces of her smell, my eyes caught on a spot of white. It was her glove on the table. She had left it behind. I lifted it, feeling the traces of her warmth still in the fabric and inspecting the few seems that had been well mended, almost unnoticeably, and the two buttons at the wrist, one pearly white and the other a different shape and pale blue, clearly sewn on by hand as a replacement.

I was two steps toward the door, on my way to return the glove when I paused. I rationalized that seeing her again would only put her in danger never considering that Nurse Hall could deliver the glove. I was reluctant to let it go. Footsteps sounded in the hall and I slipped the glove into my coat as my next patient was shown in.

After that day I thought I had passed my greatest test and there was little more to be improved on my control. I was wrong. I did not know that there was a kind of bloodlust I had never encountered that undermined every shackle and chain I had painstakingly built for the beast inside of me. I had very little experience with pure unadulterated hate.

In the days that followed my second chance meeting with Miss Esme Platt I knew only the barely consoling assurance that she was living her life happily somewhere. I would find myself reminded of her suddenly: between shifts, waiting to return to work, sitting at home alone reading an author's description would bring her image to my mind, the smell of paper would bring up my burning curiosity at her drawings, the smell of a passing stranger would be just close enough to bring back the throat scalding memory of her scent. It seemed in the months that followed I found every possible way to be reminded of the woman I should never see again. And then there was the glove tucked away in my white coat at work, the tenuous physical connection that I indulged myself with. I entertained the fantasy that I might return it one day. I deeply regretted getting the chance.

.

**Esme**

.

I knew when Charles pulled up beside the little office that I would not be lucky enough to miss Dr. Cullen. I knew that my husband's anger should he learn of my last visit to the kind doctor on the other side of town would be all the greater if the two men met but I remained silent. It seemed a price worth paying to see his angelic face again, a face I thought only a dream for so many years and seemed still impossible because it had not aged a day in my mind. Though my mind, as I have been told many times by my mother, is unreliable at best. Her words of our last phone conversation still echoed in my mind: "_He_ can not be expected to humor your abnormalities the way we have. You _will_ endeavor to be a better wife and not the sniveling child that I sent down the aisle. You are a _woman_ now, that means taking on a _woman's responsibilities. _Lord help us if he leaves you we will be out of house and home in a few short years. You _do not_ get a second chance at this, do you understand me Esme Anne?" It wasn't a question. All I could do was nod on the other end of the line and grip Dr. Cullen's handkerchief like a rosary because I did not trust my voice to speak.

Charles led me roughly into the little building and made his usual excuses for my "clumsiness." I was glad at least not to see the talkative Nurse Hall anywhere as we were lead into the small examination room.

"Sit," Charles grunted and released my arm. Blood rushed like a warm flood back down to my fingertips and I shivered. "Smile," Charles demanded as footsteps approached outside. I just nodded and took a deep shuddering breath. I had only managed a half-hearted trembling quirt of my lips before the door opened.

Seeing his face I wanted nothing more than to cry. My memory never seemed to do it justice. I had never exaggerated his beauty, if anything I had understated it in my own imagination. He looked at me with those strange light eyes filled with all the compassion I had felt in my first prayers to God. He glanced down at the papers in his hand and I knew he was double-checking my name.

"Mrs. Evenson," he said without hesitation, eyes scanning me then flickering to apprise Charles, who was leaning against the wall. "And I assume you are Mr. Evenson. I'm Dr. Cullen. What brings you here today?" It was like a sick parody of our first meeting. I watched as the two men shook hands stiffly. It didn't look like Dr. Cullen was even breathing.

"My wife," Charles said without even glancing at me, "tripped while cleaning the house. She's hurt her shoulder."

"I see," Dr. Cullen said, turning to me. "How did you fall?"

"What does it matter?" Charles demanded.

"It will help me determine the severity of the injury," Dr. Cullen answered without missing a beat and I felt sweat breaking out on my forehead. I wondered if my heart was beating loud enough for Charles to hear it on the other side of the room because it was pounding in my ears. My shoulder ached, making me realize I was trying to wring my hands.

"She was carrying too much, slipped on her own mess, and fell on her shoulder." Charles replied for me.

"Is that what happened, Mrs. Evenson?" Dr. Cullen asked me.

"Yes, doctor," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

"Well then, let's have a look."

"A what?" Charles demanded.

"Just a figure of speech," Dr. Cullen replied. "I need to feel how the joint reacts so I can ascertain the amount of damage. If I may, Mrs. Evenson." He held his hands over my shoulder and waited for my nod. I was immediately grateful. I often jumped at unexpected touches nowadays. I didn't want anything to make him more suspicious than he already was.

His hands were cold and firm through my sweater as he moved my shoulder. Even as he moved it slowly and gently I had to gasp aloud when the pain hit.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and released me. His face was troubled and his brow furrowed in concentration, perhaps even suspicion. My heart pounded faster and I was very glad the doctor's back was to Charles at that moment. By the time he had turned around his face was a mask of professionalism again.

"Well the good news is that I don't think anything is broken or torn. At worst you had a minor or near dislocation and your shoulder will be very weak for at least a month." He spoke directly to me though I could only meet his eyes for a few seconds at a time. They always seemed to stray to Charles face, which grew dark as Dr. Cullen continued to ignore him. "I will get you a sling and I must insist that you use it for at least two week. After that don't lift anything heavy for a month, work up to larger items and don't strain yourself. If you do you may cause further damage and lengthen your recovery."

"Yes, doctor," I mumbled and I caught a quick frown across the doctor's face.

"I'll also write you a prescription for some pain killers, they will take the edge off the worst of the pain. Mr. Evenson, if you would go to the front desk, Nurse Joy will find a sling for you and I'll have your wife's prescription as soon as you get back." I barely need to glance at Charles face to see that he was furious, and for a moment I was afraid that he would refuse.

"Yes, of course," He said and left the room in a huff. I heard him muttering 'understaffed' and 'pompous' as he left so I was sure Dr. Cullen heard him too. My face burned red with shame made all the worse by being alone with the beautifully kind doctor.

His back was to me as he scribbled on his prescription pad and for a moment we were completely silent. Even the scratching of his pen stopped and he stood so still I wondered if he was alright.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper.

"Not at all," he said, coming back to life. He turned to me and ripped off the top sheet of his pad. "Privacy is part of the job; everyone is entitled to theirs. This is for you." I thought I imagined an emphasis on the last word but ignored it.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Evenson." He stepped away toward the window, his left hand slipping into his pocket. Silently as I could I stood up to leave, holding my injured shoulder gently. I was almost to the door when his voice made me stop.

"You don't deserve it." He spoke softly but his voice rang with conviction and it froze me in mid step. "I know it is not my place to say, but his abuse is _not_ your fault. Any justification he gives for this… is just a lie to disguise the truth. There is nothing you could do to deserve physical violence." I could hardly breath and from the silence in the small room I don't think he was breathing either. I knew I shouldn't, but I betrayed myself and looked back at him. His eyes were the same, golden and caring even though his jaw was rigid as stone and the crease in his brow was a deep shadow of concern. He was standing awkwardly, too straight, too still, with one hand shoved deep into his pocket and the other fisted at his side. I wondered for a second how scary an angry angel could be.

I said the only thing I could say.

"He's my husband."

My angel looked away sharply and down at the floor, nodding once his understanding. I swallowed thickly before fleeing the room. I couldn't look at his pity and the pain in his face. I tried in vain as Charles drove us home to picture my angel's face as I had first seen it, serene and caring but all that I could conjure up was the fresh memory of his tortured look, helpless and grieving _for me_. I hated myself in those moments more than I thought Charles ever could. Try as I might it was that image of Dr. Cullen that I was left with and that image haunted my dreams for the years that followed. It sprung to my mind whenever I saw the little square of folded cloth in the bottom of my handbag and the faded initials, C. C. sewn on the corner. The small cloth talisman was a painful reminder of his words but I could never bring myself to throw it away.

* * *

Author's Note: Well this is something I never thought I'd do. Write Twilight Fanfiction (insert dramatic shiver here) but for supernatural fluffy romance there's little better. This is one of my favorite couples and I had a lot of fun writing their love story. I hope you liked it and keep reading. -Ember


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: New Lives

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

I had to leave. It was my only option. In a daze I finished my day and wrote out with a steady hand my resignation and apology. I cited some reason, it hardly mattered what. I could never return to Columbus so long as Charles Evenson lived here. I hardly trusted myself to take the time to pack as I left the city for fear I would change my mind, that I would decide I could not abide the shadows of old bruises on her creamy skin, that I would decide a hand taken to her in anger was a capital offense, that I would decide to kill Charles Evenson as would be so easy. I could do it painlessly, snap his neck with a flick of my fingers. I could make it look like an accident, push him in front of an oncoming car. I could catch him in his sleep, choke him into a slow death… with Esme Evenson—beautiful, bashful, bright eyed, soft spoken Esme Anne Evenson—beside him… No. That was why I had to leave.

All of my murderous instincts I could forgive but this was not an instinct; it was a desire. For the first time it was not the beast inside me that I was fighting but myself who wanted nothing more than to release the very monster I had spent two hundred years restraining. I packed my few precious belongings distractedly, trying to empty my too spacious head as I did: some clothing, some books, older mementos, a few paintings quickly wrapped, my father's cross, letters from the Russian sisters in Denali and my few other friends, and any money I had. I gathered all my paperwork, anything that might identify me later and burned everything in the trashcan. Lastly I threw in the white coat that I had worn out of the office. Moments before letting it fall in the flames I dug through the pocket. Esme's white glove was still there, a trace of her scent still clinging to it. The little blue button winked in the light of the flames lapping up what was left of my life in Columbus. Not for the first time I wished I could still cry. But not even tears for the vibrant little girl I had met all those years ago would change what I had to do.

I drove away from Columbus with everything important to me. Most notably I drove away without blood on my hands and tried to tell myself it was a victory. But I had never felt so defeated.

I drove for 8 hours until the steel structures of Chicago rose up around me. It was a new town far from The Arch City, far from Esme Evenson, and far from her abusive sorry excuse for a husband. I sighed and resolved not to think of her. I had taken myself from their lives for the better. They would be long dead before I saw Columbus, Ohio again. For some reason that thought made me sad and threw my lonely existence—so easily abandoned and relocated—into sharp view. Without feeling fatigue I felt tired.

.

Life in Chicago started slowly for me as I looked for a new job. For a while I contented myself with returning to schooling, learning as much as I could about the most recent medical advances the industrial revolution had brought me. It was in those early months of 1918 that I got word of the pandemic for the first time. The Spanish Flu was what they called it. I shivered at every headline remembering my short time in Moscow in the late 1770s. I was horrified to think what a global pandemic might do. Rumors of the casualties on the front in Europe were circulating and I was inclined to believe them. Travel was so much more common now then it ever was. If this became an epidemic there would be no way to quarantine as they used to.

Knowing all this, my first night in the influenza ward was a nightmare. I was used to watching the old withering away after so many centuries and seeing children stolen from life before their time by an adult's illness but this… The dying were all healthy, young, vibrant people with lives and futures and hopes. All I could do was make them comfortable and watch. I couldn't even participate in the risk that my co-workers were taking. I could never get sick. This would pass me by like everything else and I would watch as they died. Sitting by their bedsides I wondered if a crisis could ever be so destructive on a global scale that it would threaten humanity itself. What would our kind do?

It was in that ward where I watched the future of the country I had come to see as my own in many ways dying under fever and delirium that I met Elizabeth Masen. She was like the others, initially beautiful and bright with the flush of heath and hope in her cheeks. Then she was joined by her husband and teenage son and the hope and health fled her. I watched her gray and shrink in the bed beside her family in the long ward. Somewhere in her fevered delirium she realized what I was. She saw the reason for my cold, hard skin, strange eyes, silent heart and unnatural stillness. That or she just saw what I lacked: the mortal fear of death.

Something about her knowledge drew me to her. It had been so long since anyone knew who or what I was. Elizabeth Masen was as close as anyone had been in nearly eighty years. Watching so many patients come in warm and living only to leave within weeks or days made me so acutely aware of my solitude during the day. When the other doctors and nurses around me started to fall ill and were replaced my loneliness became what I can only describe as a lifeless depression. I lived only to return to work and sat for hours just staring out my window in those days as winter descended on the city and the death toll mounted. Then Elizabeth Masen looked at me as I whipped her salty forehead and whispered softly, "I know what you are." My loneliness lifted a fraction.

In the dead of night as the ward slept fitfully Elizabeth Masen lay awake, waiting for me, on one of her last night. In the bed beside her the auburn haired boy who had her same bright green eyes moaned in his nightmares as the fever burned him. She took my hand when I stopped at her bed to check on her. Her eyes wide, wild and clouded. They flickered between my face and her husband's empty bed.

"Please," she whispered in a voice dry as paper.

"Let me get you some water," I offered but her hand gripped mine with all of the bony strength it could manage.

"_Please…_" she begged me, holding my gaze with her own, "You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward. You _must_ do..." Her whispery voice drifted off into a hacking cough and I hurried for the water. There was little I could do for her anymore. It was the pneumonia that would take her before the fever burned out her consciousness. Standing over her as her spasms finally subsided and she drifted exhausted in to fitful sleep I looked across at the boy, Edward Masen, her son. I remembered him singing to her in the first days of his illness when he had strength still, his soft voice weaving a calming melody filled with love.

How wretched did I have to be to steal this boy's humanity? How heartless did I have to be to let him die? What is the price I would pay to no longer be lonely? His hatred? His anger? Would the memory of Elizabeth Masen haunt me if I let him die? If I didn't change him? Would she still consider her son living if he would gladly kill her for the blood that would curb his terrible thirst? I pondered all this through the long night and all through the next day.

When I returned to the ward she was gone and Edward thrashed in his fever. As I sat with him between my rounds that night I resolved myself. His thrashing stilled and then he succumbed to the exhaustion of the illness that was quickly taking his life. A simple sedative calmed him enough that no one would ask questions as I wheeled his bed from the ward. I stole him away, barely able to contain my hope. Could this be the end of my solitude?

In the prop bed I had never touched I laid him down and whispered one final apology. The sedative was wearing off and the boy fighting the fever opened his clouded eyes to look at me. For a moment I thought of Esme Evenson before she took that name, when she was just a child smiling through the fog of drugs and pain of her broken leg. I entertained for a moment the thought of what her life would have been like if I had changed her then. I shook it off.

I filled my mind with the thought of her blood that made all else seem weak and bitter by comparison. I bent over Edward Masen's neck and carefully, deliberately, sank my teeth into his delicate, feverish skin. In that moment we were both set on a course that would change us in unimaginable way. Only one thing was certain and it made me happier than even the sweet taste of human blood running down my throat for the first time: I was no longer alone.

_._

**Esme**

_._

Two things happened on August the 18th of 1919. The first threatened to destroy me. The second saved my life.

I woke up the morning of the 18th long before the sun came up and lay in bed with the feeling of dread churning like bricks of lead in my stomach. When the sun reached my face I got up, thinking only of my shower. When my hair was impeccably clean and my face scrubbed I focused on clothes. I wore the white eyelet lace dress and sensible shoes. I put my hair up under a hat and wore simple jewelry, nothing flashy to attract attention. Then I went about cleaning, keeping house like I always did. I double checked the dusting, straightened perfectly straight carpets, and washed mirror shinny pans. I checked the poorly stocked pantry, making sure that there were at least all the fixings for a real home-cooked meal. Then I walked down to the Oakton bus station to wait.

Until I saw him I had not quite given up hope that there would be no return. I had held out in the quite corners of my mind that the telegram had been rerouted, the letter lost, the news delayed, the ship sunk, plane downed, bus crashed… but no. He walked off the bus with a new slight limp and a grim expression. His eyes picked me out from the crowed of smiling families awaiting with streamers and banners, his frown deepening new hard lines on his face. All my resolve to be strong, all of my excuses and justifications, all of my 'it wasn't so bad's and 'it will be better's became vain platitudes.

I hoped only that nothing had changed but that night as he took from me what he wanted with rough calloused hands now even more accustomed to violence I knew they had for the worst. I lay in bed that night beside him as he snored, his sour breath smelling of alcohol and cigarettes, my only solace was my father's laconic letter hidden in the mattress of the guest bedroom.

It came in a plain white envelope. Scrawled on the back was: "all that won't be missed" in my father's unpracticed handwriting. Inside were a handful of bills and coins.

Over the days that followed the wordless letters of support from my father were all that kept me going. He sent them sporadically: twice in one week, then nothing for a week, then three, then two consistently for a month, then nothing. So it went and I clung to the hope every day that another would arrive. My mother's regular Sunday calls were like weekly recitals where I practiced lying and assuring her. It helped that she talked more than she listened.

Charles worsened. Where before a single drink at night would mellow him into verbal abuses before a quick forceful fuck and then a muttered good night now a bottle and a half made him angry and incited him to physical rage in which he was blind to even his own injuries, much less mine and they did not stop in the living room but carried almost seamlessly into the bedroom, leaving me lying in the wet bed beside him, crying as silently as I could. Finally he declared me too messy and banished me to the guest room where he came to me if wanted me. I was thankful for this because some nights he was too drunk to bother and I was mercifully alone in the room down the hall, comforted by the small reserve of money growing slowly under my feet.

So a year passed. A year I marked in scars and broken furniture. A year Charles marked in so many dozens of bottles and lost jobs. A year passed marked in wordless white envelopes of petty change.

It was early September when I noticed and I tried to deny it. When my mornings were consistently filled with queasy unease and quick dashes out the kitchen door into the garden to hurl I couldn't deny what I knew what happening. Still I was reluctant to admit. A short doctor's visit while Charles was at his newest job confirmed my fears. I walked home unsteadily, a hand over my abdomen wondering. How could this happen? How could God let this happen? How could I let this happen?

_You don't deserve it._ Dr. Cullen's words came back to me and I had to stop, teetering in my high-heals on the sidewalk. I could picture his face so clearly, the only way I had been able to remember him, a way that was hard to think of: tortured. _Any justification he gives for this… is just a lie to disguise the truth. There is nothing you could do to deserve physical violence._ Charles didn't bother with justifications anymore. There was no need. We both knew how the days and nights would go, our twisted marital routine of pain and silence. If he had no reason for harming me, would he need a reason to harm our child?

I felt sick for the second time that day. Quickly I hurried home to phone my mother. She would have to see it differently now, she would have to understand what I needed, what my child needed, what her grandchild needed…

"Yes," her voice was shaky when she answered.

"Mother, it's Esme Anne."

"Oh, darling. You must have heard. I did mean to call you but things have been so crazy so… oh I can hardly bear it."

"Mother, what's happened?" I asked worriedly.

"It's your father, darling."

My blood ran cold.

"He's gone. Carriage on main street just clipped him as he was goin' into the post office and Dr. Brooks said he went quietly with the head injury."

I was frozen ice, a statue with the phone in my hand. I was alone. Who would help me now?

"I can't possibly keep the farm now," my mother was saying but I was hardly listening, "You and Charles have a spare room of course and I know you could use the company." That last word seemed to break me out.

_Company_, that's what my mother thought I needed. _Company._ I felt the phone slip out of my hand and dangle by its cord from the table. I had no one and nothing…nothing but my child. My hand drifted up to my abdomen where a new life was forming inside me. A life that was pure and innocent and untouched by Charles even if he could claim the child.

I was suddenly decided and there was nothing to do but act. I ran upstairs and grabbed the suitcase I had brought from home after my wedding. Into it went my least ragged clothes, hairbrush, a family picture from my childhood, my grandmother's bible, the contents of my depleted jewelry box—much of it I had sold off in the war to pay for food—and the bag of change from the guest bedroom. I left the expensive fashionable coat the Charles had bought me and took instead his army coat, wrapping over it the warmest blanket in the house. I tied a stained dark colored handkerchief around my head and left out the front door as night was falling, the blanket wrapped tight around my shoulders and suitcase in hand.

I didn't know exactly where I was going when I left Charles Evenson's house for the last time but I had a long walk to the train station to figure it out. I knew my mother had a sister who had died in childbirth a few years before I was born. Her husband had visited once a long time ago and I had met my cousins: two older boys who could very well have been drafted and a girl, Mary. I knew Mary if only from the letters from my grandmother while she was still alive living in Milwaukee and helping to raise my cousins. My mother loved nothing better than to compare me to my Grandmother's glowing descriptions of Mary. From what I remembered Mary and her husband had taken over her father's house after he died and if she hadn't moved I knew the address from the letters I had sent to my grandmother as a young girl. When I reached the station I was decided. The ticket alone cost more than half of my father's money but it was my last chance.

I sat down in my hard seat against the cold window, squished by the family of five that shared the bench with me. I kept my suitcase between my feet and the blanket up around my shoulders, trying to hide my shaking.

"Traveling alone?" The middle-aged mother of the family asked me.

"Yes," I replied.

"Your husband's still in the army?" She said looking at the army coat under my blanket.

"No… he died." I said, unable to meet her eyes. I wished he had died. I realized suddenly that was no longer true. Even though life with Charles was hell, I would endure it for the little life I felt warming me. _You give me life too_, I told him in my mind.

"I'm sorry for your loss," the mother beside me said, buying my story.

"I have part of him still," I said. _All that is good of him I have with me,_ I added in my head. I turned to the window feeling more hopeful then I had in years. I prayed silently to my angel, his smiling gentle face finally clear to me. I prayed to my father where ever he was that he had found peace in death that we had not known in life and that I would go on to find a greater peace somewhere. The train pulled away from the station and I left Charles Evenson's battered wife and Esme Anne, Martha May Platt's daughter behind me. I was speeding down the snow dusted tracks north toward a new life.

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

It was a scent I thought I would never cross again but it was unmistakable as it wafted down the hall of the maternity ward through the swinging doors. I argued with myself as I filled out the paperwork at the main desk. Was I strong enough to see her again? I found that it didn't matter whether I was or not, because I wasn't strong enough not to see her. I handed over the paperwork to the nurse behind the desk.

"Is that everything Nurse Green?"

"Mandy, please," She said coyly, "and yes, it looks like you're done for the day. Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you," I said with a nod. "I think I'll be around for a while, take a walk. Call me if something comes up."

"Of course, Dr. Cullen." She said. I heard her sigh dreamily when I was out of human hearing range. As much as I appreciated rising gender equality I was not quite used to the overt interest of the female staff yet.

I followed her smell down the long hall of the maternity ward. Many of the nurses there smiled at me and let me go unhindered. I was an infrequent guest in their wing. After a particularly hard shift I was known to wander down that way. The miracle of human birth, so much more so than the creation of an immortal, was fascinating and beautiful to me; it was poignant antithesis to my work in the ER. I followed her scent to one of the south rooms and I glanced at the name on the door before I entered: Esme Richardson. I smiled and went in.

Two heartbeats filled the small hospital room, one smaller and faster. Esme's smell saturated the air but I trusted my control and promised myself I would keep my distance. She sat up in bed looking tired but triumphant. Her hair was still sweaty, adding to the already tantalizing scent, and circles ringed her eyes but there was color in her cheeks and the easy joy I had missed in our last meeting smoothed her features. Her arms, cradling the bundle of blankets from which the second heartbeat emanated, were too thin for my liking. I wondered with a curiosity that threatened to overpower my thirst what had happened to her since our last parting: her trials and triumphs, her failures and shames and prides.

She looked up at my entering footsteps, her joyful expression transforming into shock and then a nervous, uncontrollable laugh. She quickly covered her mouth but her shoulder still shook and her eyes glassed over with unshed tears. I couldn't help but smile back, feeling a simultaneous clenching in my chest I didn't know how to describe.

"I can hardly believe that it's you," she said. "It's good to see you, Dr. Cullen."

"Carlisle, please," I said, betraying myself by walking closer and taking the seat beside her bed. Her smell engulfed me and I reveled in the pain ripping down my throat.

"Carlisle," she said with a nod, "then you will have to call me Esme."

"Not Mrs. Richardson?" I questioned.

"Oh, no," she looked down and suddenly ashamed. "I—I feel bad for lying… everyone has been so nice to me here. Richard is my father so… it's really only half a lie."

"I assume then, you're here alone."

"Yes. I left him." She didn't look at me, instead stared down at her child. Neither of us needed to say who he was or why. "I knew you were right all those years ago but… I was too scared then. _He_ changed everything, my little boy." She smiled down at her child with so much love in her eyes. I realized that time had changed the carefree gentle child I had tended to in the Ohio countryside into a beautiful woman with a purer heart than I had ever known.

"You will be a wonderful mother," the words slipped out of my mouth. It was surprisingly easy for that to happen without the human delay of time from a decision to my body's compliance. She looked up quite surprised at my words.

"From you, that means so much I… I don't know what to say." Another little laugh bubbled up from her and I struggled to keep from grinning too wide—I didn't want to scare her.

"It takes courage to do what you did."

"No," she said shaking her head, "it takes faith—faith in myself. I didn't have much of that left when I last saw you."

"You underestimate yourself."

"I think I did." She laughed again and the sound sent shivers down my spine like the Edward's most achingly beautiful melodies.

"And your life now?" I asked, trying to restrain the curiosity from my voice.

"I have a job now—as a school teacher. I never had a job before. I work and get paid. I've started drawing again, little things but the children like them. They make up stories for my drawings, stories I never could have dreamed of. Every day they amaze me and I feel blessed just to be in their lives. I live on my own but I got used to that after… after my husband was drafted. Soon it will the two of us, my child and me, and I won't be lonely again."

"You sound happy," I said with a contented sigh.

"And you?" Her question caught me off guard.

"Me?"

"You seem… different." She said, large warm brown eyes focused on my face, searching for something there and satisfied not to find it. Was the change in me so clear?

"I'm…" _no longer alone_, I wanted to say. "I'm actually a newly made parent as well." I don't know why I admitted it. Our cover story was that Edward was my half brother, which explained our similar colorings yet widely varying features. "It was not planned, but I… I'm better for having Edward in my life."

Esme was smiling at me and just nodded her understanding. In her arms the small baby boy wriggled in his wrapping and his mouth gapped in a wide toothless yawn. Esme rocked him and softly shhhed him back to resting quietly.

"Will you introduce me?" I asked.

"Oh! Yes, well." I watched transfixed as her cheeks blossomed with warm blood. "I named him Carlisle. I hope you don't mind." I just sat stunned into speechlessness, an unfamiliar feeling. "N-not that I think anyone will call him that," she went on, heart thrumming like a birds wings nervously. "I think I'll call him Lyle for short."

"I—I don't know what to say?" I admitted, knowing even as I spoke the words—any words—would be pathetically inadequate to express the strange warm feeling in my chest and the tightness that caught my breath and had nothing to do with her scent. She looked right into my eyes as she explained.

"You saved us both Carlisle. I want him to know you. To know that there are people who chose to be kind and caring in the world, so he'll always know that is a choice for him."

"Thank you," was all I managed to say.

"I'm just glad you don't mind….I didn't know how to contact you. I called the clinic in Columbus but they said you had moved on suddenly."

"Yes," I opened my mouth for an excuse but nothing came.

"I assume Edward was part of the reason."

"Yes," I agreed again, glad for that little bit of half-truth she offered me.

A soft rap on the door interrupted us. Nurse Frasier stood in the doorway with a patient expression on his face that turned to surprise as he laid eyes on me. I realized suddenly I was leaning in toward Esme unconsciously, sitting on the edge of the seat. I sat up quickly.

"Mrs. Richardson," he said, tearing his eyes from me, "it's time."

Esme deflated a little.

"Yes, of course," she agreed and kissed Lyle's forehead in goodbye. Surrendering the baby to the nurse she bit her lip, watching him go with longing.

"It was good to see you again," I said and allowed myself one last indulgence, I reached out to cover her hand on the blankets with mine as I stood. "Esme," her name felt good on my lips.

"You as well, Carlisle," she replied and to my surprise flipped her hand under mine, giving it a blazingly warm short squeeze that made my breath catch in my lungs. But the monster inside was still chained and gagged. If she noticed my hand was hard and cold she did not show it on her face, just smiled at me with that same accepting and compassionate warmth.

I forced myself to leave her then because if I didn't at that second I didn't know if I would ever be able to. As I all but fled the maternity ward one thought broke through my forced blankness. Could someone so loving and accepting as her love even a monster of the basest kind? I refused to let my mind linger on that thought even as it refused to leave me. If I let it stay and fester I would seek her out again and I wanted to remember her the way I had seen her today: happy and strong and free. I would never fit into her life, tying to would only bring us both pain. _Better that only one of us suffer_, I thought as I drove home. Then I had to admit that I was suffering. I had entered her room one person but leaving it I think I was wholly a different one, one pained by any separation between myself and Esme. The change that had come over me I felt in every part of my body but I would not name it; as if leaving it nameless would dull the longing I felt.

.

Somehow I hid my torment from Edward. I think it was because I was trying so hard to hide it from myself that I succeeded. Still he knew something had changed in me and watched me warily in the days that followed, waiting me out. His silence was both appreciated and infuriating at the same time. He knew how I felt but continued to keep his silence. I suppose he had nothing to add. I wonder if he simply understood my emotions as little I did.

So the days passed and I consoled myself with knowing she—for I could hardly think her name without feeling like a gash had opened in my chest—was happy and that my pain would fade in time—though that was a human notion. Could 'time heals all wounds' apply to a being who no longer felt time's passage. I wondered at that in my private moments at the hospital when I was resisting my urge to walk again down the maternity ward and look for her. Such thoughts came and went with my few memories of her. They replayed in perfect clarity thanks to my unfading memory. They taunted me but I refused the nearly overwhelming urge to look for her over and over… Later I wished I hadn't.

I came into the ER the night one week after meeting Esme again in Ashland to a familiar smell that gutted me in the doorway. It was nothing like the smell of her skin or hair—no it was too potent—this was the smell of her spilt blood. I looked around, forcing myself to move at human speed, in every curtained room of the ER but didn't catch a glimpse of her. I hurried to the nurse's desk.

"Mandy," I asked and got her attention immediately, "was a women brought in recently, badly injured?" From the amount of blood I could smell she would have to be. Where was her son? I wondered.

"Ummm, yes. One woman, white, mid twenties, brown hair, brown eyes, brought in less than five minutes ago, suicide—she was a jumper—declared DOA." Nurse Green listed off the chart without feeling, too focused on me.

My world broke. It fell apart, all color draining from my sight and all warmth gone in an instant. I walked away from the desk without thanking the nurse, my feet carrying where my senses led me. Her smell pulled me and I followed._ DOA_, it echoed in my head. Dead on arrival. Nothing I could do. Nothing I could have done. Nothing left to do. But I moved still down the inclined hallway to the lower level and through the double doors that barely held back the stench of death and rot. I screamed in my mind against it. She did not belong her. Someone so bright and full of love did not belong here in the dark rotting silence of the morgue. The words of a poem from so long ago came back to me hauntingly.

_A slumber did my sprit steal;  
__I had no human fears;  
__She seemed a thing that could not feel;  
__The touch of earthly years._

_No motion has she now, no force;  
__She neither hears nor sees;  
__Rolled round in earths diurnal course,  
__With sticks, and stones, and trees._

I found myself before her gurney staring at the sheet that covered her broken body, from which the smell of her blood, suddenly sour in my throat, rolled thickly. _Not her! No, please, God, please not her. _I prayed in vain. _Why let me leave her alive again and again only to kill her like this? _My hand hovered over the sheet as I hesitated to pull it back, to see what had happened to the beautiful woman I had so fleetingly known yet…

_Thump._

I thought I had imagined it. I must have. In all my longing I must have dreamed the sound of a heartbeat so soft and weak yet…

_Thump._

I held my breath.

_Thump._

I ripped back the sheet and paused only a fraction of a second at the bloody scene beneath. I wondered how she could even still be alive with the bloody mess, her battered limbs at odd angles, protruding bones in her arms and thigh where blood ran in slow sluggish rivers. I could hear liquid bubbling in her lungs and hissing in her windpipe and the gentle, feeble beating of her heart. Was it enough? I wondered but I did not wait to debate it. I bent my lips to the cooling skin of her neck and I bit, waiting only long enough to feel the venom in her before pulling back, licking the wound quickly to seal it. But would that be enough?

Her blood was sweet and invigorating on my tongue and it slid down my throat sending a rush into my brain that drove out all other thoughts but the pleasure of it. I licked my lips and gripped the metal bed on which she lay, bending it effortlessly into a mold of my hands. I fought the monster inside of me for control, holding the image of her alive, smiling at me, and the sound of her laughter. Then a sweeter sound interrupted me. The venom of my bite must have reached her heat because it's next beat was louder and the next sooner. That simple sound was a greater rush than even the sweet blood in my mouth.

I bent over her again and again, her neck, her wrists, her arms, her thighs, her ankles. Again and again her skin broke under my teeth and healed over under my tongue.

"Please, Esme," I whispered as I whipped my mouth and looked at her battered face. Her heartbeat was picking up pace, louder and stronger with every passing minute.

I became aware again slowly of the outside world, our surroundings, and the danger we were in. I had to get her out of the hospital as quickly as I could. She would not stay quiet for long. Gathering her quickly in her shroud I noticed the indents of my hands on the gurney and I cussed. Quickly I smoothed them out as best I could. That's when I saw the box. It was as battered as she was but somehow still whole. A small placard on the top read in stamped, clinical letters:

_Carlisle Ethan Richardson  
__Born 04-23-1921 Died 04-25-1921_

My heart sank. I gathered Esme and the box that was all that remained of her human life and quickly fled the hospital. I was glad for the night shift because the darkness covered our escape and there were few people out to see me. We would need to move on anyway; Ashland was not a place that a body could go missing without questions. As I drove I focused on the sound of Esme's heart in the back seat, stronger and faster every moment, overtaking normal speed and rising rapidly. The change was accelerating. If she was conscious now then the pain was already building.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, "so sorry." Over and over I repeated those two words. I could think of nothing else to say. Elation, hope, and regret warred within me as I spirited this woman I desperately loved away in the dead of night to a new life.

* * *

Author's Note: Wordsworth, William "A Slumber Did My Spirit Steal" 1770-1850


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Changes

_._

**Edward**

_._

I was unusually pleased with myself as I walked home, choosing to take a human pace and follow the road as it wound into the forest toward our little house. Under my arms were new books and the receipt the smiling cashier had given me. I knew I was being prideful, taking so much pleasure in my little jaunt into the town but my eyes were finally muddy enough that they would attract attention. "Slipping" as Carlisle thought of it, was really most annoying because it kept me isolated for the weeks after. So, it was my successful trip and returned leisure that lightened my mood as I briskly made my way home.

Then the smell hit me. It drifted in the chilly evening breeze down the drive from the open door of Carlisle's car. He shouldn't have even been home, I realized, as I came up beside the vehicle. Inside the back seat was shinny and slick with sweet smelling blood. Whose? I wondered and looked toward the darkened house, listening for Carlisle's mind.

_What have I done? Why did I do it? Couldn't have done anything else! Why her? Why now? Oh, Esme. What have I done? _His mind was chaotic and incoherent flipping between self-loathing, tenuous hope and abject despair. But there was another mind, growing louder as consciousness returned to her and that one was nothing but wordless agony like the high pitched grinding of steal against steal in my head. I shivered, remembering my own experiences of that pain, worse than any other I had ever known. Carlisle had changed someone else.

My feet flew over the porch and I nearly ripped the door off it's hinges as I stormed past it, upsetting a table in the hallway and dropping my books without thought to them.

Carlisle was in the small unused bedroom at the front of the house, sitting on a rickety chair with his head in his hands. He looked up at my sudden entrance. The tortured expression of his face only deepened at my furious expression.

"What have you done?" I hissed the words through my teeth. Carlisle didn't even bother with words anymore; he just thought the answers. In his mind I saw a child with sweat on her brow, warm brown eyes, a blazingly hot hand gripping one stone cold and hard, a man's face, the shadows of bruises on a woman's neck, a small room filled with a smell that made my throat constrict in sudden insatiable thirst, a box of ashes, a child's yawning face. Each image was only a flicker for a fraction of a second, a dizzying storm of emotions and ideas.

"Enough! Slow down! Who is she?" I asked and looked at the woman on the bed. She was slender, a little older than I was and covered in blood. Already I could smell the sweetness souring into the scent of an immortal as her body changed. Her head lolled to one side on the pillow, eyes open but unseeing, a clouded brown color very different from when I had seen them in Carlisle's mind. Her dark hair was matted with drying blood, her right leg and left arm showed long gashes where something—her own bones I realized—had broken through her skin. She was laid out on a sheet that smelled of disinfectant, the same smell that clung to Carlisle when he returned home from work at the hospital. So she was a patient, I realized. On the bedside table beside her was the box from Carlisle's mind, printed with a name and dates of birth and death on top.

"Her name is Esme," Carlisle said in a horse voice. He showed me the image of her I had seen first, as a child he had treated ten years prior. The child morphed into the woman with her sprained wrist he met again in 1917. I caught a flash of Carlisle's imagination where a man's hand held that delicate wrist and twisted it harshly. That man was in the next memory my adopted father showed me. Charles, that was his name, was glaring at his wife, Esme, sitting in the little examination room. I felt such a rush of bloodlust from Carlisle unlike anything I had ever heard from him that it made me gasp.

_It was the hardest thing I have ever done, harder even then resisting your blood once I had bitten you, to leave and let him live,_ Carlisle thought to me. I just nodded. I knew in his place I would not have had so much strength.

Finally he showed me the last memory he had of Esme. His strange behavior and carefully controlled thoughts of the past week made sense to me finally. I looked over with renewed appreciation for the significance of the box of ashes on the table and Carlisle's name on it.

His imagination continued from where his memories left off. He saw the child with his name, blue lipped and still in Esme's arms. Transposing in his mind my mother's face as she grieved for me dying beside her onto Esme's, Carlisle pictured her anguish. Then she was standing on a high building, a cliff, clinging to the side of a tall tower—at the top of an apple tree (in this as a child with a notepad and pencil sketching in the golden evening light)—and she stepped off into the air.

The next image would have made me sick if I could still retch. I tried immediately to forget what I had seen in Carlisle's mind, the woman's broken body and twisted limbs. More than that I wanted to erase the echoing scream of Carlisle's mind, _Not her!_

I watched my father burry his face in his hands again and the nearly incoherent cycle of self loathing, hate, and depression returned.

"Ah," I said inadequately.

"I couldn't let her die," he said softly.

"Yes, I see that."

_Is she in pain_? I heard him wonder privately, dreading and yet also hoping.

"Yes, it's started." I replied. It was taking a lot of my concentration to block out the mindless noise of her brain as she burned inside. Carlisle groaned, his own pain echoing hers dully. I wanted to think of something else to say to him, some words of comfort, but he had already said it all to himself with no avail, his guilt consumed him. It was worse than the guilt he felt at changing me. Armed with the pleas of my mother, desperate with loneliness and assured that there was nothing he could have done to save me from the disease he had quickly forgotten his guilt in the frustrations of raising a newborn vampire. Esme was different for him. She was not the first jumper he'd treated and who was he to deny her suicide, escape from the pain, the loneliness he knew so well? There was no excuse for it either. He was not discontent with me as a companion so what right did he have to covet another? And worst I think of all the things that plagued my father as we watched Esme's change, he couldn't help thinking there was something he could have done to save her.

"All we can do now is wait," I told him.

_And then what?_ Carlisle thought. _What will she think of me? What will she think of herself? Will she even want this life?_ Shortly after that thought was his wordless horror at the idea of killing her and at the prospect of me killing her. He knew he had robed her of suicide just as he had been denied that escape from his new immortal life. But the idea of her living in agony, hating even her own existence made him sick with paralyzing guilt.

"All we can do is wait," I repeated.

We both heard the grinding sound of cartilage from the bed seconds later and watched as Esme's body shifted straighter and her neck twisted into a more natural angle. A little light crept back into her eyes behind the cloudy film. I flinched at the physical of effect of being so close to her mind as the terrible pain triple not once or twice but over and over as her nerves reconnected. I covered my ears in a useless attempt to block out the sound in my brain. I set my jaw and did not scream, but only barely.

"Go, Edward," Carlisle said softly, "there's no need for you to say and listen to this."

I gave him a thankful look and bolted from the house. Running through the forest. As Esme's mind grew dimmer with distance I wondered at my creator's expression. It was something worse than guilt in that last moment before I left. He looked to be in as much pain as I was in that room, nearly as much pain as the dying woman.

.

I waited a whole day before I returned. More than once over that time I nearly went back sooner but the idea of listening to her pain again, each time, kept me away. So I hunted and swam in the great lake even though it was still April and most humans would have frozen to death in the water. Finally I resolved to return. For one, my last hunting trip had destroyed my clothing in a moment of thoughtlessness; it was easy to forget that my clothes were not as impervious to predators as I was. For another I was anxious to see Carlisle again and how he was fairing. I thought I should at least try to tear him away from wallowing in his own self-loathing for a little while (even if I thought it would be a vain attempt). So I turned my steps toward home.

I felt her mind as soon as I got within a mile of the house. The agony had not ebbed even in the slightest but she was quieter in her torment now, resigned to it almost. I wanted to know what her thoughts were in those terrible moments but I did not want to listen too carefully. So instead I focused on my own steps and physical movements as I entered the house, trying not to listen to anything in the front room.

I changed into clean clothes before venturing there.

Carlisle had moved his chair closer to the bedside. A pan of red tinged water and a few stained cloths were on the table beside him and one was held in his hand as he gently wiped the evidence of the near scrape with death from Esme's skin. Where he washed away the blood, he left pale unnaturally smooth skin behind. The change was well underway now.

I tried to block out the sounds of her pain but seeing my own face in Carlisle's mind I know I failed.

_You didn't have to come back, _Carlisle thought to me. I rolled my eyes. I knew that.

"How is she?" I asked instead of voicing my exasperation.

_Quiet now,_ he thought and showed me a quick snatches of the violent convulsions and screams that I had missed though the lenses of his guilty eyes.

"I see," I replied and shifted nervously. "How are you?"

"I'm…" Carlisle debated his words: _terrified, hopeful, repentant, anxious, grieving._ "…fine," he said at length knowing I had heard everything. "I don't know my own mind anymore," he admitted before returning to his work, cleaning the blood from Esme's fingernails. I noticed a shift in Esme's mind even as I was blocking it. I risked looking closer.

"She likes the sound of your voice," I said with a small smile through my grimace of pain.

"What? She can hear us?" Carlisle asked.

"She can hear but I don't think she can understand much through the pain yet. I remember when I was changing I felt alone in my pain. I think she just likes the company."

"I see," Carlisle said softly. _Would she enjoy music? I don't even know what kind of music she likes? What books she reads? What she draws? _I listed to Carlisle's mind drift into his curiosity, sensing a tenor of excitement in his voice that surpassed anything he had felt for me. Somehow that didn't bother me. Together we had been through rough times as I adapted to my new life and Carlisle adapted to company after centuries of solitude. I knew that was a bond this woman would not break or weaken. In fact it was that bond we shared that gave me joy. She, Esme, gave him a kind of happiness he had never known and as his friend—no as his son—I was happy for him.

I turned from him and went to the grand piano in the main room (it had been purchased with the house being in fact the dilapidated building's finest selling point). It was easier to block out Esme's pain with music so I tried focus on the notes and expressions completely.

I played for hours until my repertoire was exhausted. All through it I felt Esme's mind on the edges of her pain clouded consciousness bent toward the sounds. The sun came up over the canopy of the forest and ended my concert. From where I sat my refractive skin would be a beacon visible from the road for the next few hours. Reluctantly I left the golden squares of light creeping across the floor.

In the front room Carlisle drew the tattered and faded curtains and ran a hand gently over Esme's tangled hair. He sighed and sat down in his chair again, returning to his vigil.

_Thank you,_ he thought to me.

"It's been nearly 40 hours. Considering how much…" I stopped. Esme's mind paused, hanging on my words. Carlisle looked up at me confused at my sudden silence.

_She can understand us?_ He thought. I nodded.

_If it's alright with you I think the shock of all this—_this being the hidden supernatural world she would awake in—_will me more than enough without adding your unique perceptiveness as well._

I chuckled at his choice of words and nodded.

_I'll be ok, if you want to leave. I'm sure the end won't be so easy to listen too._ We both remembered that pain all too well. I just nodded again and turned to go. He started speaking again softly as I left, aloud now. He was reciting from memory:

"My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains  
my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,  
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains  
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:  
'Tis not thought envy of they happy lot,  
But being too happy in thine happiness—  
That thou, light-winged Dyrad of the trees,  
In some melodious plot  
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless  
Singest of summer in full-throated ease."

Esme's mind was focused then on only the sound of his voice. It lulled her better than any of my tunes. Perhaps she didn't love the piano as I did but I think it was more the speaker that she had preference for.

.

I didn't return to the house until darkness fell again.

Carlisle was still in his seat, his untiring voice filling the house with soft yet fervent verses. An anthology was splayed open in his lap but he read from it only occasionally, choosing instead to pull stories and poems from his long memory at will. Esme's eyes were closed but her body was laid out more naturally than before. The pain that came from her mind had not dulled but she as calmer. I could catch coherent thoughts from her as I stood in the doorway.

_So this is hell,_ was the first thought I managed to grasp. It was a surprisingly placid thought. I suppose she had expected hell when she took her own life. _But then why is my angel here? Is he in pain like me? I wish I could tell him to leave and go on but if I open my mouth I'll only scream. _Her consciousness drifted back to Carlisle's words as he recited Milton. I frowned, it seemed Esme and I had similar opinions of Milton. I gave Carlisle a pleading look.

_Alright, _he thought to me, _I know what you're going to say._ He broke off and instead picked something at random from the book on his knee.

He was halfway through a short story when Esme noticed the change; the pain was fading from her fingertips. I looked at Carlisle and mouthed silently, "it's started." He just nodded without a break in his even voice but I could hear the nervous anticipation in him mind.

Hours passed. The moon rose. Carlisle kept reading. After a while there was no need to mouth silent updates because we could both hear the pounding of her heart in it's final moments. Still Carlisle read on.

"As from the pow'r of sacred lays  
The spheres began to move,  
And sung the great Creator's praise  
To all the bless'd above;  
So when the last and dreadful hour  
This crumbling pageant shall devour,  
The trumpet shall be heard on high,…" His voice trailed off as Esme finally moved.

Her heart picked up speed like train engine rising to the pitch of a hummingbirds wings, loud and fast and strong. She tensed up on the bed, drawing in to herself, clutching at her chest, breath coming in ragged gasps now. She convulsed once then balled up lifting herself up as she tried to smother the fire within her. As her heart reached a painful climax of hammering like a tuning fork's warbles, each beat blending into the next, she let out one scream that made my cold dead heart drop into my stomach. I heard Carlisle's hands straining in tight fists. Then as suddenly as a candle blown out, Esme fell silent and collapsed on the bed.

Her heart gave one last short, weak beat, then was still.

"The dead shall live, the living die, And music shall untune the sky." Carlisle whispered the end of the poem into the utter silent stillness.

We waited what seemed to me many long moments before Esme opened her eyes on her new world. She sat up and turned to us in one blinding movement, startling herself. Her wild red eyes flittered all around the room in a matter of seconds.

_Stay still, Edward, let her do this at her own pace,_ Carlisle thought to me. I didn't even dare nod. I knew at that moment Esme was as much a danger to us as she was to any human she came in contact with.

Her mind was hectic with a million questions. Each demanding an answer only to be forgotten milliseconds later, displaced by yet more questions. Then her eyes fell on my father and she paused, all her thoughts converging on his presence.

"Carlisle," she whispered.

"Hello, Esme," he replied evenly. Her panicked mind was set instantly at ease by the familiarity of his voice and the normalcy of his response. I relaxed a little.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"This is my home."

Her eyes shifted suddenly to me, taking in my unfamiliar face yet similar color to the man she knew._ Edward,_ her mind supplied my name to her.

"This is Edward," Carlisle introduced me seconds later.

"Yes, of course," she whispered. "It's very nice to meet you." Her mind was reeling as all the thousands of questions came back to her. She looked back to Carlisle who hadn't moved. "I don't understand. How did I get here?" Her mind was trying to follow her last memories to where she was now. I saw in her mind the little box of ashes being placed in her shaking hands. Then the cold, one room apartment where she sat for many long hours until hunger forced her to move. She flickered through days of that kind of monotony in half a second, each bleeding into the next.

"You were brought in to the hospital," Carlisle began to explain.

_Why? _Esme wondered then remembered the moment after her feet left the solid rocks of the cliff side. It was only a second of memory but it remained more vivid than any human memory Carlisle or I had maintained. It was like a sudden moment of clarity in which she realized that she was alone, but all the world had finally opened up to her. Her son was dead and nothing, not even jumping from that cliff, would change that. She was done with her family but that meant everything they had ever denied her was now a possibility. And there was Carlisle… she regretted more than anything in that moment when her feet left the earth that she had not sought him out one last time. Perhaps things could have been different. All the terrible things in her life shrunk in that second before gravity claimed her, everything but the terrible choice she had just made and could never take back. I stifled a gasp at the single second of memory that staggered me.

"I remember." She whispered. "I—I died didn't I."

"Very nearly," Carlisle replied. Knowing him as well as I did, I could hear a strange tightness in his throat as he talked.

Esme was quiet for a long moment before very slowly lifting her hand to her chest, pressing it to her bloodstained dress.

"My heart's not beating." She noted numbly.

"Yes." Carlisle replied.

"My heart's not beating but I'm still alive. How is that?" A note of hysteria touched her voice.

Carlisle's mouth gaped once then twice as he foundered for words to confess what he had done. An apology was half way to his lips when I spoke.

"I can explain."

"No, Edward, it's alright. Esme, I—I did something drastic and unforgivable to save your life. Something irreversible and terrible, that I don't expect you to thank me for. I had no right, and knowing that, I did it anyway. I can not even ask you to forgive me." He bent his head, burying his face in his palms at the admission.

"Why? Why me?" Esme asked, looking from Carlisle's blond head to my face. _He's saved my life again. How can I not thank_ him_, my guardian angel? What could be so terrible? What could be worse than –_ and her mind played over that terrible last moment of vivid human memory—_that?_

_Of course you!_ I heard my father think incredulously. _It's always you, Esme._ _Every time I force myself to let you go, you come back to me and remind me how truly kind humanity can be. How could I live if I let you die even if you had to become _this_ to survive?_

"W-why?" Esme asked the silence again but even as she spoke a greater desire than her curiosity made itself known. She reached up to cup her burning throat. "W-water please?" She asked and I could only look at her pityingly.

"It's not water that you're craving," I told her.

"W-what?" She was shaking now.

"I'm so sorry, Esme," Carlisle repeated, raising his head to look at her with guilt twisting his face. Her crimson eyes raked over his face then caught on the spattering of red across his shirt collar. She breathed in deeply through her nose, assessing the smells that flowed through her new senses.

"That's my blood on your shirt. I can _smell _it. But…" she looked down at her own arms, twisting them in front of her face, feeling her body and brushing along the rips and tears in her dress.

"I'm not injured," she said in shock.

"No. You healed."

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days."

"Two?" She blinked. "That's not… that's…" I took this chance to clear some things up.

"Your world is a lot more complicated than you think," I told her. "There are secrets even science hasn't found yet, hidden for hundreds of years behind fairytales and myths." I heard her mind questioning how possible that could be. "Our kind have been keeping their existence a secret for thousands of years. It makes it easier to hide if no one thinks such things even exist." She was recalling her first memory of Carlisle and comparing it to him now, not a day older. Nothing from his beauty to his cold, hard skin was normal and this was not a new revelation to Esme. I wanted to smile. Despite my initial anger at Carlisle I was being quickly won over to his side. I liked Esme. I liked her pure and compassionate mind.

"I think she's not as oblivious as you believed, Carlisle," I said with a smirk.

"Edward," he warned, _we agreed to take this slowly._

"What are you… what am I?" She corrected herself. _Am I still myself?_ She wondered silently.

"We're exactly who we were in our human lives," I said, answering her unspoken thought as naturally as I could, "just stronger, faster, and… changed." I trailed off.

"You'll find your senses are more acute, smell especially. Your reflexes are faster and your mind is more agile." Carlisle adopted his clinical doctor's voice, the one he used to explain complicated illnesses to his patients. "Your skin is harder, you'll find very little will harm your or even bruise you. Your teeth are sharper, they just about the only thing that will break your skin and scar you. What you taste in your mouth is venom; we all have it. Your body has been changed on a cellular level; that was the pain you've been experiencing. Our venom will start the change in a human and as it progresses will heal almost any wound so long as the heart continues to beat and blood flows through it. Your new body is many times stronger than your human one. It will never tire or age or change. It does not need sleep or exercise. It will never cry or sweat. It does not need warmth or air or food or water." Esme took all of this in with wide eyes. For a long moment she was completely silent staring at Carlisle's apologetic face going over and over everything he had said and marveling at her own perfect recall. Finally she settled on her last burning question.

"If I do not need food or water then what is it I _need_?"

"Blood." I answered for Carlisle because I knew he couldn't. Her mind supplied the name we had both been hesitant to give her.

_I'm a vampire,_ she thought with the same placid reaction she had to believing herself in hell only hours ago. _Carlisle is a vampire? No. That can't be! He's so kind and genuinely good he could not be a monster at heart. Then if he is a vampire and a good person despite that, a vampire is not necessarily a monster. _She was so assured of that thought that for a moment I was almost convinced. What Carlisle's constant arguments had never been able to do she did with sheer conviction and assured faith.

"Oh," she said, a completely anti-climactic response to the revelation I had heard in her mind.

Carlisle's anxiety petered out into shocked static and I swear I could hear with my ears his jaw drop.

I could no longer help it, laughter burst from my lips.

"Edward?" Carlisle cried, more in shock than anger. _What did you hear?_ He demanded to know. I just laughed on.

_Am I funny? _Esme wondered. _Did I do something wrong?_

"No, no," I said gasping. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just expected something more than, 'oh'." Esme looked at me even more confused and Carlisle was glaring.

_He's going to start scaring her soon,_ my father worried, glancing nervously at Esme.

"I'm not going to scare her, really she's fine. More than fine actually," said recalling her last vivid human memory.

_What is he talking about? _Esme wondered. _Why does he think he would scare me?_

"Carlisle thinks I'm going to scare you," I told her regaining control of myself. "It's partially my fault. I was a rather… jumpy newborn. My ability lets me hear so much but I found it very hard to manage while we were still in Chicago, too many people."

"Your… ability?" She asked. _It's like he was answering my thoughts, _she noted and bit her lip, feeling the sharpness that Carlisle had warned her about.

"I_ was_ answering your thoughts."

_Edward,_ Carlisle groaned internally.

"Don't worry, Carlisle. She can handle this. She's handling everything else so well."

"Yes," he agreed, "let's not push it."

_He hears my thoughts,_ Esme realized. _So he has heard everything? _I felt the mental equivalent of blush that wouldn't show on her pale bloodless cheeks. _Oh no! What has he heard? _I didn't need to hear the alarm in her voice, it was clear on her face.

"Edward's gift is hard to get used to but he is very discreet. He will respect your privacy as he does mine," Carlisle assured her, reading her reaction correctly. _Won't you, Edward,_ he thought to me and I nodded with a grin.

_Can Carlisle hear me too? _Esme wondered with a note of panic.

"No, it's only me," I assured her quickly. "Even among the supernatural there are freaks."

She relaxed a little at my joke and as the panic faded her thirst returned to dominate her thoughts.

"I think it's time to hunt," I told Carlisle.

"Yes of course," He agreed. He stood and offered a hand to Esme.

"Hunt? But I don't know how," she worried. I stifled my laugh.

"You'll be a natural, I promise," Carlisle assured her. Hesitantly she reached out and took his offered hand. I heard her note the lack of a difference in temperature yet the tingling sensation the physical contact gave her.

"What are we hunting?" She asked.

I lifted my face into the wind as we stepped outside. "Mountain Lions."

_Don't try to fight her for it, you'll lose, _Carlisle warned me. I just chuckled. If nothing else, having Esme around was going to be interesting.

* * *

Author's Note: 1. Keats "Ode to a Nightingale" 1795-1821, Dryden; 2. John "A Song for St. Cecilia's Day" (Chorus) 1631-1700


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Desires

_._

**Esme**

_._

I stood before the tall mirror in the small room I was given in Carlisle's house. A stranger looked back at me in the same pose and position. She was my height, a few inches over five feet, and she had a similar slight build that even in womanhood had a childish gangly quality. Her posture was straight and well balanced like a dancer. Her hips were just the right curve to match her breasts, making a perfect hourglass shape where I expected my own bottom heavy figure. Instead of creamy skin, hers was pale and incredibly smooth. Her hair was the same length mind had been, falling in warm auburn waves but it had more shine and volume than mine should have. I reached up to touch it and the stranger did too. I focused on her breathtakingly gorgeous face. Perfectly heart-shaped and startlingly pale, I searched for my human features in the reflection. There were my long lashes, the slight bowing of my brow, the slight upturn of my nose, and the slightly boyish width of my chin. But my eyes were completely gone. There was no brown there, only red, brilliant crimson red. Looking back into those eyes I shivered.

A knock on the door interrupted my assessment of my new self.

"Yes," I answered, my voice sounding too singing and silky to be my own. Edward opened the door slowly and came in, a pile of folded cloth in his hand.

"Carlisle thought you might like a change of clothes," he said in explanation. I looked down, suddenly embarrassed at my own torn and bloodied dress. I hadn't changed since the day my son died—I flinched at the memory—and it was dirty with sweat and spilled tea I was too lifeless to clean up. My regrettable tumble down the cliff had torn in badly and added bloodstains. Now it hung by one shoulder and bore my legs and midriff inappropriately after my wrestle with my first kill. The claws that couldn't harm me now had shredded the thin spring dress.

"Don't worry about it," Edward said, seeing into my mind. "We were all clumsy hunters at first. It get's easier."

I just nodded, feeling like my cheeks should be burning in shame but they weren't even warm. I was sorry to have lost that comforting feeling. Try as I might, it had always been the one reaction I could never disguise.

"I certainly don't miss blushing but I suppose on a woman it's more endearing," Edward said and held out the clothes, which I accepted. They smelled faintly of soap, sunlight and Edward himself.

"Your gift takes some getting used to, I guess," I mumbled.

"Yes, but you'll adjust. I try not to comment on every thought I hear. Carlisle just stopped bothering to speak aloud after a while but he never had anything to hide from me… or well I thought he didn't. I'm sorry we don't have any women's clothes," He said as I unfolded the poorly patched and mended pants made of soft, heavy cloth. The shirt was in little better condition. "Carlisle said he would try and get something next time he's in town if you give him your measurements."

For a moment I was anxious about giving him an inch by inch measure of my body.

"I'm sure he could estimate them for himself after tonight," Edward commented with barely restrained amusement. I felt the invisible blush return. "He is a doctor. He's seen a woman's body before. I'm sure he'll treat you with the same dignity he would any other patient."

_Of course he will_, I told myself. _You're being ridiculous, Esme. You're hardly dressed as it is. What will giving him the correct numbers change?_ I opened my mouth to tell Edward what they were but my eyes fell on the mirror again and I paused. I realized that I didn't know what my measurements were anymore; my body had changed in the past week. Between pregnancy, childbirth and now this altogether different change my body was completely new to me.

"Here," Edward held out a measuring tape to me. "I'll leave you alone to… change." He said. I just nodded as he ducked out of the room. Slowly I sat on the bed even though I didn't really need it for support. My legs weren't tired and they never would tire.

It didn't bother me as much as it probably should have, waking up in a body that wasn't really mine and a life that was irrevocably different than the one I had gone to sleep in. No, it was almost déjà vu. It felt like walking home from the doctor with one hand over my belly and just knowing that my body was different and Carlisle's words echoing in my mind. It felt like waking up my first morning in Ashland after a hurried escape from Milwaukee when my cousin Mary told me my mother and Charles were coming to get me. I could still remember, though it was hazy and indistinct, the feeling of my heart hammering in my chest and my breath coming faster and faster when Mary said, "We're going to pick up your mother and husband from the train station tomorrow and you should be there. You can't keep running from this, Esme. Your mother's lost the farm and she's nowhere to go. It's exceedingly selfish of you to give up a good home and security for all _three_ of you," she looked meaningfully at my hands, protectively placed over my growing child, "just because Charles isn't everything you dreamed he'd be. No man is perfect, even my George. You can't expect my husband to support his own family _and_ yours. Even _family_ _charity_ has a limit."

A growl from downstairs jerked me out of my memories. Through the walls and floorboards I heard Carlisle's voice:

"What is it, Edward?"

"Nothing," the boy responded, "just something in Esme's memory."

_Oh,_ I thought, _he can hear me. I forgot. I'm sorry, Edward. It's nothing, just a memory. _I shook myself out of the melancholy mood and stood up. That life was behind me. I was starting over again and I was determined to be positive about that. Quickly I stripped away what was left of my dress. In my faster, stronger hands the seams simply popped and the existing tears just lengthened until the dress came away from my body in ragged strips of stained cloth. I took a deep breath and let them fall to the floor. I was more careful and slower as I put on Edward's borrowed clothes, more aware of my own strength. I was very glad he gave me a belt because I needed it. Even that was too large for me and I had to punch a new hole with the buckle to keep the pants on my waist. _At least_, I rationalized, _I am better covered._

I looked at myself in the mirror and the person that looked back was almost more alien than before. The pants felt strange after so many years in skirts. I tried to remember when I had last worn pants but it was surprisingly foggy compared to the crystal clear memory of new mind. I gave up the effort and went about measuring my new form, trying not to look at the mirror too much. I looked around for something to write down the numbers with but realized that I had no trouble at all pulling them out of my head; prefect recall had its conveniences.

Edward was sitting at the piano downstairs looking over some sheet music.

"Was it you I heard playing… before?" I asked, remembering the sounds that had first broken through the haze of pain.

"Yes, it seemed to calm you somewhat."

"It did, thank you," I didn't think I could put enough gratitude in my voice. His music had been my first lifeline, the only thing that dragged me back from madness. How could I ever repay him for that?

"I'll think of something," he said and for a moment I was confused.

_This really is going to take getting used to,_ I thought to him and he just chuckled. Carlisle walked into the room a moment later, dressed in fresh clothes that smelled like the same soap as mine and traces of cedar. I had to consciously stop staring at him. I'd thought he was beautiful when I saw him through human eyes but they missed so much. I wanted to examine every inch of his face with my new sensitive eyes and know this man who had saved me.

"Is that a new piece?" Carlisle asked Edward. I realized he only spoke aloud for my benefit.

"Yes," Edward replied, "I've just finished transposing it. I think you'll like it."

"Another time," Carlisle apologized. "I'm in enough trouble at the hospital for the past few days. I'd rather not be late as well."

"Of course," Edward said, dropping the sheets on the floor and settling himself in front of the keys.

"Have a good day," I said softly as Carlisle headed for the door.

"Will you be alright?" He asked me, the care in his voice soothing me and exciting me at the same time.

"Yes, I think so. It's bearable now," I said, lifting a hand to my throat. It still itched a little, but it was a ghost of the burning from before.

He gave me a pitying smile and nodded.

"I'll watch out for her," Edward said in response to some silent thought of Carlisle's.

"I'll be home before dark," Carlisle promised. He picked up his bag and was gone. I stood beside Edward and listed to Carlisle's feet on the porch then the sounds of his car starting. I followed the engine noise as it receded down the gravel drive then onto the road into town. When the sound was gone Edward began to play softly.

The new piece began gently and almost sadly flowing up and down under his skillful fingers. Then with a short and sudden pause launched into a melody line that was bluesy and bright, weaving into and through the gentle theme from the beginning that faded away as the happier melody shifted up and became gentler.

_Does it have words?_ I asked Edward in my mind, glad I didn't have to interrupt his playing. He just nodded toward the stack of paper on the floor as his fingers wove in apparent effortlessness across the keys. I reached around for them gently, aware that paper was even more fragile than the dress I had (further) ruined.

_It Had to Be You by Isham Jones _was printed in bold black letters across the top and I gasped softly as the perfect song came to a fitting end. The last note seemed to hang in the air of the old house like all good music. The ending was proper but I was sad to have it over.

"A fitting song for the two of you," Edward said and I nearly fell over.

"W-what?"

"I hear your thoughts about Carlisle. From the moment you woke up it was clear what you feel for him. It's not new is it? I suspected that you might—"

"Please stop," I cut him off and set the delicate paper on the piano top before I accidentally ruined it. "Please I—I don't want to talk about that." My hands shook terribly and I clasped them together in front of me. "Please. And please don't say anything to him I—I'm just not ready for that." There was a panicked edge to my words and thoughts. _I've had so little time with him. This is too good to be true but I want it to last just a little longer… just be with him a little longer…_

"Alright," Edward assured me, "I'll say nothing, I promise. But you should know that he—"

"Please don't! I don't want to know what he's thinking. It's—it's not—" I shook my head. _He would want privacy too,_ I thought to Edward.

"Yes, I suppose your right," he huffed in agreement but his expression was annoyed. "In that case, what kind of music do you like? I'm endeavoring to learn a little of everything right now."

"Umm…" I blinked a few times as I thought back into my human memories. _I don't know,_ I realized. Charles had always hated the radio and before that the only music I heard was in church, we didn't have a radio at the farm. Edward scoffed.

"I'll soon fix that," he said ruefully and spun back around to his piano. "This is on of my favorites and a good enough place to start as any."

Music filled the house again, just a few notes at a time, picking up slowly in a lethargic beauty like a quiet midnight. I let it wash over me, standing at his side. The notes were clear and crisp in my new ears and I felt free to love these new sounds. There was no guilt in my joy for the first time. I put a hand on his shoulder.

_Thank you,_ I thought. His smile became a grin. I found myself looking forward to the joys of this new life; Edward would play for me and I would see Carlisle again. In that moment those two thoughts were enough.

_._

**Esme**

_._

I was standing at the window later that first night of my immortality when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I already knew what Edward's steps sounded like and these were different. Carlisle must be home, I assumed and went to the door of my room to let him in.

I wasn't quite prepared for the way seeing him would take my breath away. _How can I deserve this? _I thought again. _How can I deserve life with him when I so willfully tried to end my own?_ He was staring at me quite surprised. I wondered what my face must look like to him. Was I beautiful or did all vampire faces look like mine and he was simply accustomed to them? My eyes fell then on the trunk in his hand and the familiar smell on it. I knew immediately, even without my eyes to confirm it, that the trunk was mine.

"You're looking well," Carlisle said softly.

"Y-yes. I'm… settling in," I said awkwardly. I didn't know what else to say. "You went to my apartment?"

"Yes," He said and held out the suitcase. Taking it I thought at first it must be empty before remembering that I was much stronger now. What had seemed like a great weight as a human was hardly an effort to lift with one outstretched hand now.

"Thank you but… won't they notice these things are gone? I know I can't go back but I don't want you to get in trouble for taking them," I said. He followed me into the little wood paneled room. He stood in the doorway as I opened the case eagerly.

"I—well… The hospital was never able to identify you that night. When your body went missing they assumed it was a paperwork error. I forged an autopsy and dental x-rays that will be discovered misfiled by one of the orderlies. I took the liberty of leaving a note with your landlord explaining your sudden departure."

"What did you say?" I asked, looking over contents before me. My few photos, clothing, bible, sketchbooks, pencils, and various bits were packed away with ordered care.

"I said you were going back home to stay with relatives, I didn't specify who or what relation."

I nodded my acceptance and smiled at the lingering hints of Carlisle's scent on each object as I unpacked it.

"Thank you. I know they're only things but it's nice to have… some connection to who I used to be."

"You're still the same person you were three days ago," he said but I was already shaking my head.

"I know that. I mean before… before L-lyle and Ashland… before Charles." I unpacked my bible and the little picture of my family on our farm. My father looked back from the frame grimly as I remembered him but there was kindness in his eyes I had overlooked for so many years. "At least now I have a change of clothes," I said on a cheerier note.

"Yes, I'm sure getting out of Edwards hand me downs will be a blessing."

"And I can draw again…" I said picking up a pencil from the case only to have it snap in my hand and my words trailed off. "After I get more control of myself maybe." I nervously glanced at Carlisle's expression. It was somewhere between understanding and consoling.

"You will get used to it," he assured me. "I can't say life will ever be the same but it will be…"

_Better because you're in it,_ I thought.

"Manageable," he settled on after some internal debate.

"Edward seems content," I said.

"Yes, he's come a long way. I'm sure having someone who's been through this more recently will help you. I rarely think about my first years and few of my experiences could help Edward with the change."

"He's a good companion for you," I noted and he laughed at it.

"Yes," he nodded, looking at the floor but unable to hide his sheepish smile, "I had to wait a long time before I found him. For a while I didn't think than any others of our kind would ever consent to live the way I do. There are others though, at least one other group that I know of."

"Why do you not live with them?"

"They are… less transient than I am. I love the work that I do, helping people—humans. But to do that I have to move around every few years, I draw too much attention otherwise."

"That's why you left Columbus?" I asked. The staff of the little clinic had told me he left for a better job with very little notice.

"Part of the reason," he said stiffly. "I had other reasons then." _Was I one of them? _ I wondered.

"How long have you been doing this?" I asked instead, changing the topic. I busied myself with moving the few clothes into the old dresser with exaggerated care for both (it looked as old and dilapidated as the house itself).

"Doing what?" Carlisle asked.

"Moving from place to place, working as a doctor among humans?" I asked.

"In America, since 1858," He said evenly. I turned to stare at him disbelievingly but he still looked no older than perhaps 30 if I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"H-how old are you?" I sputtered breathlessly. Carlisle laughed.

"Old," he responded in tired voice though his face was hopeful. "I was born in London many years ago and spent most of my immortal life in Europe before I crossed the Atlantic. America was knew and still unsure then but it seemed like the kind of place where I could do good."

"We must all seem like children to you," I said. My new mind had no trouble figure out that he was at least 200 years old.

"Honestly, no. I can say from experience that it's true, 'you never stop learning'. Edward himself has taught me many things in the last few years. You have surprised me more than I thought possible in the last 24 hours."

_I'm not very special,_ I thought. "Thank you," I said instead, running a hand over the fabric of my favorite blue dress.

"It's not much, only what I could carry inconspicuously," he said, misunderstanding.

"No," I shook my head and looked pointedly down at my hands, "Thank you for finding me, saving me, and letting me stay. For all of this."

"Esme," he said, softly shocked. It gave me a strange electric thrill to hear him say my name. I made the mistake of looking up into his burning golden eyes. They held mine powerfully. "You don't ever need to thank me," he said, voice tempered with guilt, "and you are _always _welcome with us." Under his gaze I could only nod wordlessly. I was very glad for a second that I couldn't cry or my eyes would have been swimming.

"I'll leave you to… settle in," he replied and turned away, closing the door in his wake. I finally breathed. I didn't need to but it was comforting. If I had a beating heart it would have been pounding but instead there was only the tingling electric aftershock. I wondered if I would ever get accustomed to living with Carlisle Cullen.

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

It was about 2 weeks after Esme joined our house hold—I still struggled to call it a coven—that she came down the stairs one evening with the little box of ashes in her hands. She held it gingerly as if it were made of thin glass and not wood and iron nails. I looked up from the medical journal in my hands when she entered then flicked my gaze to Edwards grim face to gauge her thoughts. He met mine in a resigned way.

None of us had been brave enough to broach the topic of her son with Esme. She seemed so focused on figuring out her new life that it never seemed like the right time to bring up her past. Hunting came naturally but she still struggled not to lose her clothes in the process. Her thirst bothered her nearly constantly but that was normal for a newborn. I knew from Edward and others I had met, that it would fade soon if she kept up her current pace of consumption. More than that she struggled with the normal things. Handling anything delicate was hard for her because she had never been strong by any stretch of the imagination. Her heightened hearing also made her jumpy and nervous at times. The first time Edward had angrily smashed something—a small table as it happened to be—she jumped and a whimpering sound broke through her lips. I'd rushed into the room just in time to see Edward's horror stricken face as he watched whatever memory tormented her. He had apologized so profusely after than and treaded around her softly for the following day though I could see his fists clenching when he thought of why. It was hard to suppress my similar reaction to thoughts of Esme's former husband. I hoped with time she would come to be comfortable in our presence. Edward could think of nothing better to do about it so we settled on silent patience.

More than that we were adjusting to life with Esme. She was unfailingly kind and brightened both of our lives in ways we couldn't expect. Edward was won over to her in a matter of hours. He took great pleasure in finding her new music to listen to and even tried to teach her. She was always hesitant in such lessons; afraid she might break the instrument. At night the three of us explored the lake coast and the wilderness. Edward enjoyed having someone to race with. Compared to him, I was hopelessly out paced, but Esme's newborn strength let her keep up with him. I looked forward to those nightly outings through my shifts at the hospital that seemed just a little longer now that I had her waiting at home. Every evening, save this one, she had been waiting on the shaded porch for me. Watching the smile break over her face as I pulled into the drive quickly became the best part of my day. I knew she was just happy that we could begin out nightly explorations but it still made something in my chest flutter every time.

Today she had not been there, and when I came into the house Edward was bent over a new piece, focusing intently. I realized now as Esme descended the stairs he was endeavoring to give her some privacy, or just to escape her mind.

Esme stopped at the bottom of the stairs, eyes downcast at the little box in her hand. I noticed she was wearing the darkest of the dresses I had ordered for her: a long sleeved navy housedress trimmed in red and offset with a white collar.

"Could we go somewhere specific tonight?" She asked hesitantly, shifting her weight awkwardly.

"Anywhere you'd like," I replied almost automatically, _so long as there are no humans there._ I had to add the last part in my head. The last thing any of us wanted was an accident. Esme had yet to come very close to any humans but she'd caught far off traces of their scents and knew the overpowering instinct to hunt that threatened to control her. I cringed to think of the beautiful kind woman I knew she was draining the life from anyone. It surprised and shamed me that I recoiled less from the thought of innocent death than I did from the guilt I knew would plague her.

Esme was quiet for a long moment after she made her request. Once or twice she opened her mouth to speak but was overcome with emotions that played out over her face, half hidden in her curls. Finally she looked up at Edward helplessly.

"She would like to go to the cliff," Edward said for her, "where her old life ended."

_Her old life,_ I thought, _that's an interesting way to look at it. _

"Alright," I said aloud. "Let's wait a few hours for darkness to settle in." She just nodded and turned to move slowly back up the stairs.

When the last traces of light were gone from the sky and there were more starts than planets, we silently convened downstairs. Edward and I had both changed into dark colored shirts as seemed appropriate.

We traveled in silence that night, a somber mood hanging over us. I knew that this night would have to come but I had hoped it would hold off just a while longer. But then I would always want to delay Esme's pain. That little box represented more to her now than the short life of her only child. It represented her humanity. She could never have children again; I had taken that from her. Slowly, haltingly I had explained that to her the morning of her second day with us. She had just nodded numbly and gone upstairs in silence. I'd looked to Edward for help but he only shook his head. The subject had never come up again.

I had looked up the records at the hospital when I went back. Her child, Carlisle Ethan Richardson, had died the night after I met him of a short but severe lung infection. It was relatively fast but I couldn't help thinking of all the children I saw dying in Chicago. In the worst months of the Spanish Flu I saw too many pregnant mothers, and few of the children who survived birth lived more than a week. The little blue-lipped bodies, still and silent were as clear in my memory as they had been in life and I cursed my immortality. I didn't want to think of Esme, warm and human as I had seen her that last time, holding a the little boy with my name staring up at her with brown eyes just like hers and cloudy with death as hers had been in the morgue.

All at once we had arrived. The cliff was not far from Ashland but the wind was with us tonight, blowing the scent of the town away from us. It looked out over the expanse of the icy lake. Below the rocky beach wove along the forested coastline. A path wound around the cliff here, a more popular place in the summer, but today it was empty, without even the trace of human passage.

Esme walked to the edge, the little box of ashes in hand, her hair and dress whipping in the cold wind. I could picture what she looked like the last time she was here and an irrational jolt of fear shot through me. I half raised my arm to draw her back from the edge. I knew in my rational mind that the fall couldn't harm her now but I was terrified to see her disappear over that precipice. Edwards hand on my arm stopped me.

"Let her do this," he whispered.

We watch as Esme silently opened the box. She paused, eyes fixed out across the water.

"I don't know what to say," she said softly with a short tearless sob. "He was so small and… and perfect and he was mine. I loved him from the moment he came into my life and I knew I had to protect him. That meant protecting me too. My little boy… there was so much of life that he missed but he was loved… even nothing else he was loved. That counts for something. I lived so long thinking no one loved me, but my little boy… he was always loved. I will always love him and I will never forget."

Edwards hand slid off of mine and I stepped forward to Esme. Gently I put a hand on her shoulder. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small square of paper. It was all that I could give her, and it was pitifully little.

She gasped when she saw it and gingerly accepted it, her eyes caressing the image of her child. The hospital took photos of every newborn for their records. Most were sleeping in their photos but little Lyle was awake and looking curiously up at the camera. Whether by chance or design is lips were pulled up slightly in a childish smile.

"Wherever he is," I told her, "he knows." She just nodded and I stepped back again.

"Goodbye," she whispered to the wind and let the little box tip out over the cliff side. A sudden gust picked up and lifted the fine gray powder, sending it swirling in a hundred motes of twisting wind over the landscape.

Edward began to sing a soft hymn, letting the words flow indistinctly one into the other as his clear tones rose and fell. Esme just stood on the cliff edge with the photo against her chest and silent dry sobs shaking her shoulders. I ached to hold her and cover her to keep away the grief and pain. There was no shield though, not one that I could give her.

We returned home in similar silence but there was a perceptible difference, like a weight lifted. Esme returned to her room when we reached the house but threw us a small sad smile and a whispered "thank you." I just nodded to her and Edward sat down at his piano to play soft comforting songs to fill the house.

_Was there anything more we could have done for her?_ I asked him silently. He just shook his head.

_I suppose it's enough not to be alone,_ I thought.

Edward smiled a little and threw me an expression that said, you would know.

Yes, it was enough. I didn't need two and a half centuries to learn that.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Adjustments

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

A strange smell caught my nose as I drove up the drive from the main road. It took me a moment to place and even longer to equate to the little home in the woods. Even more curious, it was not Esme who was sitting on the steps of our porch waiting for me but Edward. He had a book open in his lap, the same one he had been reading that morning when I left.

_Is it that good?_ I asked. He just shook his head. A strange noise came from the second story window. _What on earth is going on? _I thought to him. He just jerked his head toward the door. I was halfway inside when he finally spoke.

"If she asks you to go to the store tell her humans have to sleep and it's closed," Edward said ruefully. "And I think I'll skip our outing tonight. I really do want to finish this book."

Shaking my head I went inside only to be stopped in my tracks by what I saw.

Was it even the same house? Had I taken a wrong turn? No. This was the same structure and there was Edward's piano lovingly covered by a drop-cloth. The room was completely transformed. All of the furniture was moved out (save the piano). The old wood paneling was now bright white, even the ceiling. The floor had been sanded completely from wall to wall revealing the lighter color of the unexposed wood and the baseboards around the room had been painted a warm cream.

The strange noise upstairs brought me out of my shock and I hurried to the stairs in search of it. The source was Esme prying the crumbling chair rail off of the walls of my study. All of my things were crowding the hallway in a precarious array. I stopped in the door to stare. The same transformation was underway here as well. She was had clearly cleaned everything top to bottom before even beginning, leaving the air thick with swirling dust-motes.

"Oh," She jumped when she saw me, so engrossed in her work she'd missed my arrival. "Carlisle. You're home." She grinned at me brightly, the smile I was afraid I was going to miss. Suddenly I didn't care about the complete disarray so long as she was happy. There was a new light in her eyes and a fullness in her cheeks.

"I'm sorry about this, I thought it would go a lot faster than it's been," she said nervously.

"No," I shook my head. "Downstairs looks… different."

"Well it's not finished. I have to wait to varnish the floors and the walls are still wet. The ceiling needs another coat. I ran out of things to do and… well I think I got a bit carried away."

I couldn't help but laugh at how innocently happy she sounded.

"I didn't know the house bothered you," I said.

"It doesn't really, I just needed something to do. I tried sewing but I still don't know my own strength, I keep ripping the fabric and thread. I end up making anything I try to mend worse—heavens though I have a lot of mending to do. I turned to cleaning. There were a few little things I knew I could fix around the house and before I knew it I was planning a major renovation."

"I didn't know you were so handy." I leaned against the door frame and watched as she got back to work on the chair rail, removing it with her bare hands gently, unfazed by splinters or rusting nails.

"I used to help my father around the farm. There was always something that needed fixing and he would let me watch or sit on the ladder. I used to think he just put up with me but… he was a man of few words and fewer expressions. I really never knew how much he cared." She eased the old décor off the walls carefully. It really was good practice for her, I reasoned.

"Later though," she went on, "when Charles came back from the war he started sending me letters, not letters exactly because he never wrote, but money, just spare change really. I think it was his drinking money, what my mother would give him to go down to the local bar. Instead he sent it all to me."

"Your mother wouldn't have approved of that?" I asked. I could guess why.

"She could never forgive me for wanting to leave Charles."

I couldn't help but frown. Esme didn't turn back to me though, just brushed over the painful topic.

"It was because of my father that I could leave when I did. That little bit of money got me out of Columbus. Is there anything specific you would like?" She spun around to look at me suddenly. The settled dust made her hair just one shade lighter and a few of the warm honey colored curls had come out of their pins at the nape of her neck to bounce around her face. Exertion made her eyes bright. Muddied slightly from the brilliant red they had been, I could almost have tricked myself that her human color had returned.

"What?" I asked dumbly, dazed from looking at her. I could swear I heard Edward chuckling softly downstairs.

"In the room," Esme said with confusion puckering her pale brow, "is there anything you'd like? Colors or features? I was thinking of building shelves in here, you have so many books!"

"T-that would be nice," I said with a nod. "I'm sure whatever you pick out will be fine."

"I at least have to get you some curtains, there aren't any decent ones in the entire house!"

No, I didn't care about the mess or the dust. I don't think I'd have minded if she wanted to tear the whole house down and rebuild it! Esme looked happy, so I was happy. It was surprisingly simple and yet utterly fitting. Bit by bit I could feel my life altering around her, no longer just my own now. Part of my life was now tied up in hers. It was different from the obligations and love I felt for Edward. He had always been and would always be his own person. With Esme I yearned to be closer than that. I wanted to share everything with her. The world that had at so many times seemed overwhelming and insurmountable was a worthy adversary if I could just face it with her.

"Green I think," she said, pulling me out of my thoughts. "A darker rich green. It will go well with the existing wood and some lighter colored curtains. Would that be ok?"

"Sounds perfect."

_._

**Esme**

_._

Life was getting slowly easier. It helped to have something to do, a goal and a plan. I no longer spent the daylight hours in idle wanderings, reading or listening to Edward play. And the house was slowly starting to look comforting. The old drab building I had first awoken in was hardly recognizable anymore. The front room looked airy and bright now with the coat of fresh white paint and the furniture was all dusted and fixed as best as I could manage. I had plans to reupholster the sofa and chairs once I could manage a needle. Upstairs was moving slowly. Carlisle's study was almost finished and my own room was in the first stages of getting new wallpaper. Edward had declined to let me into his own room yet but he seemed interested in the curtains I was making for the front windows. They would shield him from the street on sunny mornings.

The curtains themselves were the most trouble. I was making progress, but it was slow progress. Everything else I could do with at least a touch of immortal speed, never needing to stop and rest except to hunt (which I still needed to do often). This required concentration as I fed the delicate needle in and out. I had to be careful not to stick myself and blunt it against my hard skin or pull too hard or too fast and rip the thread or fabric. It was far too easy to do something wrong in haste so I was slowed to a sub human crawl as I stitched the curtains with exaggerated care.

It was harder when I was anxious like now. The light was fading, not that that bothered my eyes, but it meant that Carlisle would be home soon. In fact he should have been home already but the drive was silent and I stitched on. Edward came downstairs a while later and broke my concentration, leading to a slight pull in the thread and a small tear in the fabric. I frowned.

"Sorry, Esme." He apologized and slid onto the piano stool. "I haven't heard Carlisle come home yet."

"No, he's late," I said, glaring at the stitches as I worked with painstaking slowness. Edward began to play soft calming songs and I tried to focus the part of my mind that was waiting for Carlisle on the music instead. I failed utterly.

Darkness settled over the little clearing around the house. Edward got up to turn on the unnecessary lights. The dark house as seen from the road was suspicious so we kept lights for at least part of the night. I set aside my slow going work. I no longer had enough space in my mind to control my worry, my cautious movements, and my growing thirst. I still struggled with that aspect of my new life. It seemed I was three times as thirsty as Carlisle and Edward and consumed so much more than the two of them. Edward told me this would pass when he caught it bothering me. He stood at the front window now and I could see his frown in the reflective glass.

"Let's go hunt while we wait. Carlisle will catch up," Edward said. No doubt he could hear my thoughts straying in that direction. But I couldn't get up from where I was.

"I think I'll stay here and wait for him, you go," I offered with a small smile. _I know I'm just worrying needlessly but I would like to wait,_ I thought to him. I expected he would argue or remain with me given the stubborn face he was making but then it changed. He cocked his head to the side, listening to something I couldn't hear which made him gave a heavy sigh.

"Alright. Maybe you'll know what to say to him after a day like this," He said and turned away from the window. "I never do," he grumbled on his way out the back door just as the sounds of Carlisle's car coming up the road met my sensitive ears.

Edward was long gone by the time Carlisle pulled into the drive. His feet were slow and heavy across the porch and when he opened the door his face looked older than I had ever seen it. If I didn't know it was impossible I would have said he looked tired.

"Welcome home," I forced my usual smile. It wasn't quite as warm as it should have been but I did feel a rush of relief seeing him again. I fought the urge to cross the room and embrace him. Perhaps that would help… perhaps that would make it worse. Charles never liked to have me around after a bad day. He preferred to induce forgetfulness with drink. What did vampires do? I wondered. Would even human blood help ease the pain of perfectly preserved immortal memories?

Carlisle just stood in the doorway for a long moment with his bag in hand staring at me. Then his shoulders fell and the breath rushed out of his lungs. He hung his head wearily. In the same second I had decided to move I was by his side and gently taking the bag from his hand. I moved around behind him and gently, very gently helped pull the coat off his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Esme," Carlisle said very low. "I don't think I'm much company right now."

I turned away to hang his coat in the closet so he wouldn't see my face.

"I-I can go. Edward is waiting to hunt outside."

"That might be best," he said slowly. I wondered if I was imagining the reluctance I heard in his voice. "You must be thirsty," he said, half to himself.

"It's manageable," I told him. I moved into the living room to tidy up my work. The yards and yards of curtain fabric were spread across the sofa and low table.

"You've been sewing?" He asked in shock.

"Slowly," I grumbled. "I'm even worse than I used to be. I hate to think what my mother would say if she saw this work." I chuckled humorlessly. The motion of Carlisle head, shaking back and forth slowly drew my eye. There was a reverent expression in his eyes.

"How could… That you have even this much control, Esme it's an accomplishment! Don't let anyone tell you different, real or imaginary," He sat on the cleared sofa looking limp. "Adjusting to this life isn't easy and you've thrown yourself into it so willingly I—I'm in total wonder." I sat on the other side of the couch, leaving space between us.

"I have good teachers. Edward has been a great help. He keeps me from losing my temper at inanimate object," I said with a small smile. "Just this morning I was about ready to burn the whole heap of cloth! He just started playing that song, Flamin' Mamie." Even through his despondent exhaustion Carlisle groaned. That had been one of Edward's favorites for quite a while. According to Edward they bought the house with the piano on the one condition Carlisle would not have to hear that particular song for at least two decades. "It really does make you feel like dancing."

"Or pulling teeth," he muttered and I chuckled. The short moment of mirth dissipated quickly though as he let out a heavy sigh. We sat in silence for a while as he drifted into thought or memories and I watched his beautiful face. I hated to see it so troubled. It reminded me of the expression he'd worn the last time I saw him in Columbus.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "I promise I will try to put these unhappy things behind me. I'm late already, no need to waste more time."

"No, you don't have to do that," I reached out but my hand hovered an inch above his, not actually touching him. I didn't know how he would react to that. Part of me knew Carlisle would never harm me but another part, the one that had learned to survive in Charles Evenson's house held me back. I warred with myself for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, daring myself to meet his eyes. They were wide with surprise.

"I—I don't know," he admitted then gave a dry laugh. "Usually Edward can see what I'm thinking without words being necessary. I've never had anyone to… talk to." I smiled.

"I can listen and try to understand."

"I—I don't know if you'll want to." He ran a hand through his hair that was already messier than usual as if he had done that more than once recently.

"Was it a bad day?" I asked. He let out a long breath and pressed his eyes tightly shut. He nodded without opening them.

"A tour bus crashed outside of town. Most of the less injured went to Duluth but the critically injured came straight to Ashland. It was closer." He shook his head and fell silent for a moment. "A woman, I don't even know her name, was brought in with a concussion, broken ribs, collapsed lung, broken leg, going into shock…. It was too late. I knew as soon as she came in that… it was just too late. She was awake up until the end. She kept looking around for something or… or someone… She just looked so lonely."

I knew what Edward meant then; there was nothing to say. My hand didn't hesitate this time when I reached for his. He startled a little at the contact and I jumped but he grabbed my hand, holding it, not painfully but firmly. We sat like that for a long time, hand in hand.

"It's somehow worse than before," He said softly. "When I was lonely I didn't quite understand the losses that were happening all around me. I mourned for them—the dead and their lost potential—but I couldn't really empathize with the survivors, those that were left behind. I didn't understand what they were going through. Now I have so much more to lose and I see the same fear in their eyes." He finally sat up, looking more like himself. "Edward believes we are soulless, immortals that is, but I can't believe that. Not when I can recognize all my own emotions in humanity, not when I know that I feel as they feel."

"I don't know if it helps but," I hesitated. "Something I heard my father say once comes to mind: 'It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.'"

"Henry David Thoreau," Carlisle said. "Yes I've read that before. Hmm." He seemed to fall deep in thought but much of the weariness had fallen from his face. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you," he said, snapping out of thought, "I think I needed this."

"Any time," I said smiling. He smiled back, finally looking like the man that I knew who was so much more angel than human. His smile fell though as he peered at my eyes.

"You are very thirsty though, aren't you? Come on," He jumped up and pulled me with him by the hand. "I've kept you from your dinner long enough."

"Will you be alright?" I asked him and we paused at the back door. He looked back at me, out hands still clasped together and sending tingling sensations up my arm.

"Yes, I think I will be," he nodded. "No mater what I feel for the mourning families right now I wouldn't give up your company or Edward's, go back to loneliness, just to be distanced from their pain again."

I smiled and nodded. Together we left the house and followed Edward's scent into the woods. He gave me a strange look when we appeared, both with a renewed air of excitement for our nightly excursion.

"What did you say to him?" Edward asked me while we waited for Carlisle to return from hunting down his own meal. I just shook my head and thought about Flamin' Mamie playing over and over. Edward groaned.

"Ok, ok," he said, "I get it. 'Two can play at this game.' Well whatever you did, thanks. I knew I would like having you around." His words lit something like a fire in my chest and if I could still cry I think I might have. How long had it been since I felt wanted anywhere? In Ashland where I knew no one? In my cousin's house under her constant judgmental eye? In Charles's home? Even in my childhood home my mother was impatient for me to marry and leave. She practically shoved me out of the house on my wedding day. _Oh, Edward,_ I thought to him, glad he knew my mind because I didn't trust my voice. Instead I did the only thing I could think to do. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him (gently because I was still stronger than he was).

"What did I miss?" Carlisle asked as he came back.

"Nothing much," Edward said. "I think she might finally be starting to believe us when we tell her she's welcome here."

_How could I? It all seemed too good to be true,_ I thought to him. _I didn't know where I could possibly fit in to your lives._

"You fit in just fine," Edward told me. "Now I heard Canada was having a few bear problems. Do we have time for a little swim?"

"The hospital gave me the day off tomorrow," Carlisle shrugged. Edward turned to me with a mischievous look.

"Race you to the shore?" He asked.

_Oh no,_ I thought but immediately started off. He followed, just seconds behind me, yelling, "no fair! You cheat." I just laughed. I was finally, slowly getting to the point where I could enjoy my new life. Maybe even look forward to it.

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

Esme's grip on my arm was firm and very nearly painful but I bore it silently as we walked through the trees. The light breeze was blowing to us across the lake bringing the scents of the vacationers and visiting families down to us. Even so close I knew it would be tearing up her throat horribly. Still she managed to remain composed as we made our walk. A gust brought a fresh wave of the scent to us and she stiffened, hands gripping me tighter. I inhaled sharply at the sudden ache of pressure on my forearm. I should say mostly composed, but it was progress.

"Sorry," she whispered and lightened her grip.

"It's alright. You're doing very well."

"You keep saying that but I'm no where near them and it's all I can do not to…"

"It's easier if you don't think about it."

"That's impossible," she hissed back at me. Thirst made her more irritable I noticed but even then she was a hundred times more polite than Edward. Of course Edward had to listen to me constantly appraising him and questioning his self-control in my own head.

"Tell me about the renovations."

"That's what you want to talk about? Not how dangerous this is, me being…"

"Edward has finally let you into his room."

"Well I've finished almost everything else," She huffed. "At least until the cabinets for the kitchen come in it gives me something to _do_. I just wish it was more useful!"

"It's an investment," I said. "We bought the house very cheaply and thanks to you we'll make money when we decide to leave."

"You mean when we _have _to leave."

"That is always a possibility."

"I don't like it. I don't want to be the reason we have to leave Ashland. I—I like it here."

"And you'll like the next place we go. You can even help pick it out. I'm sure you already have a better eye for houses than either Edward or I."

"You would let me?" She asked, momentarily distracted from her thirst judging from the way her grip on my arm relaxed.

"Of course. You would be free to do what you liked to whatever home we buy just as you are here."

"We? You're the only one who makes money. You should decide what's done with it."

"I've had _many_ years to save it up and very little to do with it to be honest," I said thinking of all the various accounts that I had scattered in the wake of my travels. "Besides, Edward is far from poor."

"He is?"

"His father was a well respected lawyer in Chicago. He left Edward both his own savings and his wife's inheritance."

"Oh," She said softly and looked down.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, it's just… I feel… poor," she admitted with shame in her voice, still looking at the ground. I stopped abruptly and she turned to look at me.

"Esme," I took her hands from my arm and held them in my own, "when I brought you into this…" I searched for a word: coven, household, family… nothing felt right without overstepping some boundary."When I brought you into our lives I was and still am willing to share everything I have with you. I am responsible for you." _And not just because I care for you though that is reason enough,_ I thought to myself.

"Carlisle, you always seemed to think you were responsible for me, even when I was human," she said, looking down again, "but there's no reason you should have to bear all of my burdens, certainly not the financial ones."

"Actually, as your creator, I do," I said. "There are… laws, I guess you could call them, in our world. You may be an adult in human years but to our kind you are very young. I am responsible for you at least until you can be trusted keep our secret."

"But that doesn't..." another gust of wind cut her off and instinctively she breathed in. Esme was half turned toward the scent before I got my arms around her shoulders.

"Esme! Stop. Remember who you are. Remember why you're here. Hold your breath. Wait. This will pass." She struggled in short bursts against my arms, her newborn strength threatening to overpower me just before she got control and stilled again in my arms. I felt her breathing had stopped and just waited patiently. "This will pass," I repeated to her and she just nodded.

"Do you need to leave?" I asked. She was still for a long moment before nodding again resignedly. She didn't resist as I pulled her away from the shore and further into the woods but she didn't help me either until we were quite a ways away. She ran on her own the last ways up wind until the beach was behind us.

She took deep breaths of clean air, standing on the edge of the tree line in the clearing we had designated our safe mark.

"I-I'm sorry," she said, shaking slightly.

"No, Esme," I shook my head. "I don't know how many times I will have to say it before you believe me, you're doing very well."

"Maybe when I can go into town and actually see the people that I'm so bent on killing I will consider believing you," she muttered and returned to her deep cleansings breaths.

"It will get better."

"Edward says you sound like a broken record."

"I know," I said laughing. "It is the truth though. Shall we hunt?"

"Deer?"

"That or Elk, I'm sure we could find either." I watched her face scrunch up in distaste at my suggestion. I had to admit she was right. Herbivores were not very appetizing after our walk in the aroma of the human banquet on the beach. "Afterward there is a present waiting for you at home," I said, trying again to distract her.

"What? Carlisle, you didn't have to." I knew she was worrying about the money again, never wanting to be a burden to us. I longed for her to realize 'us' included her and she could never be a burden when she made our lives so full.

"I didn't _have_ to, but Edward thought you would appreciate it," I said self-consciously. I didn't want to let on how anxious I was to see her reaction. In truth Edward hadn't even been aware of the gift until I asked him to supervise it's arrival. Bringing Edward in on the guilt though sweetened Esme's mood. She seemed to love him as much as I did and would do just about anything to please him.

"Alright, I will try to be gracious for him but he will hear my thoughts anyway."

And probably agree with them, I thought to myself. He had raised an eyebrow at the cost of the gift.

"Thank you," I said with a sigh, "now I smell deer heading south, shall I lead the way?"

"You would have to be faster if you wanted to that," she replied and took off into the woods. I followed with an irresistible grin on my face.

_._

**Esme**

_._

I was in a much better mood when we got home, my thirst reduced by the hunting and Carlisle at my side. Despite the torturous thirst I enjoyed my evening walks on the beach. Near the beach would be more accurate. I knew I wasn't ready to be so close to any human yet. Carlisle at least felt I was ready to walk with him there, downwind of the summer vacation crowds, without Edward hovering constantly behind me. I had to admit that I enjoyed walking with him in private. He would tell me stories of his long life, slowly working backwards from recent history to his travels in Europe. I had mentioned once that I would have liked to travel and since then he'd paid particular attention to his descriptions of the far off places.

"In a few years we could visit. I haven't taken much time off of work for… a long time. Edward would enjoy that as well."

The possibility was alluring, even if my control was years away from being ready for that. I realized that Edward was so far ahead of me that he and Carlisle could go anytime they wished. It hurt to be the only thing holding them back.

Carlisle was also much more patient with me on those walks than Edward. I think my irritable mood was more contagious when I couldn't bite my tongue to restrain my rude remarks. Edward heard them all. I was always sorry afterward and he accepted that but we were both sensitive personalities under our hard skin and in the moment the words hurt.

Edward was waiting on the back steps for us when we came out of the trees. There was an excited air about him that made me apprehensive. I wondered what kind of present he and Carlisle had bought me. _I hope it's not expensive,_ I thought.

"How did it go tonight?" Edward asked.

"Good," Carlisle said, "She didn't try to bite me."

"I nearly did."

"But you didn't," he pointed out and turned to Edward. I recognized the look of questioning that usually accompanied a silent question. Edward nodded his silent response and smiled wider. Then he laughed and shook his head.

"Oh no," Edward chuckled, "I am not taking any of the credit. This was all your idea." He turned and went into the house. I glanced at Carlisle before I followed. Behind me I heard him sigh. _What on earth could he have gotten me?_ I wondered. _What do I need? I don't eat so it's not food. I tear half of my clothing in thoughtlessness so it can't be clothing. I have more than enough books to read and they've given me everything I need to fix up the house without hesitation. _

I didn't need to look very far for my present though, it was sitting in the living room next to the front window. Edward's piano had been moved over to accommodate it. The little table had sturdy iron legs and the machine itself rose up in a slender enameled black case. A strange circular attachment sat off the back and a cord snaked across the floor to one of the few electric outlets. Across the vertical arm "Singer's" was written in gold.

"It's a Singer's Model 99, electric powered too," Edward told me.

"You bought me a sewing machine? You… this… it's too much!" I stammered. "This… this is… it must have cost you a years wages!"

"Not even," Carlisle said with a shrug. "Your work will go a lot faster now. No need to frustrate yourself with the slow way."

I looked helplessly between their expectant faces. Carlisle was watching me, waiting for a reaction other than shock. Edward was looking at me sidelong, half watching, half listening. I thought of the curtains for my room that I had half finished upstairs, the cushions I had planned for the sofa and table runner for the dinning room. I realized suddenly I could make new dresses for myself. I could mend Edward's and Carlisle's things without ruining them and even make nicer new ones. My lip started to tremble and I quickly covered my mouth with my free hand. I looked at Carlisle with gratitude but I couldn't force words out of my suddenly tight throat.

Edward laughed. "She loves it, she just can't speak." He said for me and I nodded helplessly.

Carlisle finally smiled. "Good," he said and nodded. "I hoped you would."

"It's perfect," I managed to say. "I don't know what I can say. Thank you, thank you… I really hope I don't break it." I laughed at how breakable everything was to me now.

"I know you won't," he said. "Your control is very good."

"Thank you." I said again. "Are you sure you had nothing to do with this?" I looked over at Edward who was shaking his head.

"I am completely innocent in all of this."

_Have I ever had a gift to rival this?_ I wondered. My father's letters full of pocket change sprang to mind followed by the little handkerchief of Carlisle's I had… I immediately cut that thought off and focused on the projects I was already lining up for myself. I glanced at Edward but he seemed to be having another silent conversation with Carlisle and missed it.

_No_, I thought, sitting down at the sewing machine, _this is probably the most thoughtful gift I've ever gotten. _I looked at Carlisle and Edward, who were deep in their half quiet conversation. He didn't feel so far away anymore. There was still a gap between us. I knew I could never be so kind and selfless as he was but with Charles behind me I felt like a thick wall between us had been torn down. _Maybe he could love me_, I thought, running a hand over the table top of my sewing machine. I could see that future now that I considered it, my pale hand on his arm just as it had been as we walked near the beach but not clinging desperately, just holding for the comfort of physical connection. _Is there a future like that for us? _I wondered. _Maybe._

Edward looked at me sidelong again. This time he had heard my thoughts and I blushed fiercely even though no one could see it. I was glad for that.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Guilt

_._

**Edward**

_._

I knew something was wrong the moment I turned onto the driveway. Quickly I scanned the area for any human minds before sprinting up to the house. I dropped the new sheet music on my piano and made a dash for the stairs. In a second I was at Esme's door. It was splintered around the doorframe and the wall had even cracked from the force with which it had been slammed. Inside I could hear her. With my ears only whimpering dry sobs reached me but with my mind I heard her mental anguish.

_How could I! How could I without even knowing! Until it was over, without even knowing! No, no, NO! It can't be!_ But her memories were crystal clear. The man's lifeless body in her arms and his bones crushed by her powerful hands like strips of soft wood. Lifeless eyes looked out from the pale bloodless face at her with a pleading question: Why? Esme's mind cried out in terror at herself and what she had done.

I ground my teeth and stood frozen outside her doorway. What did I say?

I remembered my first slip in the darkened Chicago streets and Carlisle's words as he drove me out of the city: "It's only your nature. You will learn to control it. There's no need to hate yourself now. I know you feel guilty for what you've done but you can use that. Let it motivate you to be better. This will get easier. I promise. You'll be ok." In his mind he had been accepting, never judgmental of what I had done. And never once had he been angry. More than any of it was his own guilt. As terrible as I thought myself to be that night as I wiped the man's blood on my pants, trying to clean my hands of it, Carlisle felt worse about himself. I had acted thoughtlessly and ended a life out of instinctive need. He had acted with completely coherent intention to make me into the passion-governed monster that had committed that murder.

I understood my father's point of view in that moment, frozen in helplessness outside of Esme's door. I should have been with her, should have been able to stop her, spare her this pain. For a moment the guilt consumed me as much as it did her. Even if I couldn't have known tonight they would need me I felt petty for putting my own desires over her needs, over other's safety. My hand raised to knock on her door and apologize but I realized that would do no good the moment before my knuckles connected with the wood. I was frozen again.

"Oh, Esme," I whispered, knowing she would hear the pity in my voice.

_Edward!_ She realized I was there. _Oh Edward, I'm so sorry. I tried to be good, I did. I couldn't do it. I failed. I failed and someone died. How can I live with that? How can you live with me after what I've done? How can I be deserving of all this happiness you and…_ her mind faltered on the thought of Carlisle. _How could I ever think I could be worthy of him?_ She asked herself, forgetting me. _How could I think he might love me?_ In her mind the gap between the two of them was no longer narrow but so wide and deep it swallowed all her hopes and that future I had seen just a few days ago blossoming in her mind.

"Esme," I groaned. "No, no, that's… please don't think that!"

_It's true! You know what I've done. I cannot come back from this! I—I killed someone, a human being. That cannot be forgiven. Ever. Never. Cannot. _She sobbed on the other side of the doorway. _Please just leave me alone. It's better that way. I was always better alone. I never should have come here, to Ashland. He would have been better off to let me die! I wanted to die! Why couldn't he let me?_

"No, no," I moaned and put my forehead to the door. I wanted to remind her of that last moment she'd shown me in her mind, when gravity snatched her out of the open air and she wanted desperately to live. But my gift could only take, it couldn't give and I hated it passionately at that moment.

"Please go," She said aloud in a broken voice.

Defeated I ambled down the stairs and opened my piano. With a heavy heart I played her favorite tunes, the slow and sad ones that soothed her on the harder days. They were little comfort now.

.

It was hours before Carlisle returned. Esme's sobs had stopped and her mind was almost catatonically quiet, regressing into thoughtlessness to escape the pain for a moment. I paused in my playing and turned to him. He shuffled to a chair and sat, putting his head in his hands with a heavy sigh.

"What happened?" I asked him.

_She's listening isn't she?_ He asked me in his mind.

"Yes."

_It was a simple mistake. We were hunting and crossed one of the service roads for the electric power lines. There was a car. I didn't see it but as soon as I was down wind I knew… She was ahead of me and I couldn't get to her in time. _In his mind I watched Esme dropping down out of the trees in a predator's leap and drag the man out of the cab with one hand, throwing him to the ground. She was on him before Carlisle could get his arms around her and he could only stand beside her as she sank her teeth into his neck. I saw in his mind how he shied away from the sounds of rapt pleasure she made as she drained the man's lifeblood. _There was nothing I could do,_ He thought with guilt like the weight of all Lake Superior on his shoulders.

"Who?" I asked softly as I could. I felt Esme listening closer when she heard my question though. "She wants to know," I added.

"An inspector with the electrical company from out of town." In his mind I saw the man's license and the address on it. I saw the wedding band on the man's finger and the picture in his wallet of a smiling woman and little dimple cheeked boy.

"What did you do with…?"

_The body? _Carlisle filled in the last word I didn't want to say aloud. _I crashed the car into a tree, flattened one tire so it looked natural and ruptured the gas tank. It will burn hot enough to cover any trace and no one will be able to tell what really happened. _

"So we aren't leaving?" I asked.

"It would be suspicious if we did. No, we'll stay. There will be talk but it will pass soon enough."

I nodded.

_How is she?_ He asked, quiet again.

I just shook my head. I think all the water of the Great Lakes would seem an easy burden compared to his guilt.

_This will destroy her,_ he thought. In his imagination he could see all too well what I could hear in Esme's mind.

"It'll be ok," I said and crossed the room to put a hand on his shoulder. "She'll make it through. She's stronger than you think." Neither of them believed me.

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

The next few days were silent and tense in the little country house. I called in to the hospital sick and spent most of my time in my study, alternating trying to read and trying not to worry. I failed at both. Edward was just as quiet. More often then I care to admit I would wander out of my room, pause at Esme's door, then ambled downstairs to check on Edward. He would look up at me, knowing my question before I could even think it, and just shake his head. Most of the time I would find him sitting at his piano, hands in his lap, or holding a book but not looking at it. He was the only one who left the house in those long days. He would wander around town sporadically and listen for any gossip that might implicate us. There was nothing. The cover up had worked. Still Edward went on his walks in the late evening as he was now. I think it was partly to get some relief from our thoughts, mine and Esme's.

Esme never left her room. She was silent apart from a few bouts of dry sobbing. I didn't even hear footsteps in her room. My imagination tortured me with the image of her lying on the floor, curled up over her knees, eyes open and staring blankly as dust accumulated on and around her. Unlike a human she would never cramp from inactivity, never tire, never stretch, and never need to use the bathroom. But as the days wore on I worried about her thirst. She was still so young. Edward could go days without feeding. I could go weeks if I needed to. Esme required blood almost daily. The longer she resisted the more volatile and dangerous she would become. Of all the years of my long memory the fuzziest were the months of hunger before I discovered an alternative to human blood. Those memories were dominated by emotion and instinct. I had lost all rational thought to the need I felt. How long would it take for Esme to descend into that? I cut off that thought. I wouldn't let that happen. Even trying to imagine the beautiful, kind woman I knew so wild with animalistic insanity sickened me.

Still I could picture it all too clear. I had seen it when she caught the scent of human blood. Her dark, umber eyes had widened and searched out the source of the tantalizing scent in her nose. Her beautiful lips meant for smiling had pulled back to bar her sharp predator's teeth. Nostrils flared and brow furrowed in concentration, she hardly resembled the woman that I loved, the woman I needed so much I was willing to turn her into a monster to keep her alive.

_How she must hate me_, I thought, putting aside the book I had been trying to read. _She must hate me and I deserve it. I would rather damn her to hell than let her die and join her son. She must think me terribly selfish and entitled. _I wished that I could regret what I had done, but I knew if faced with that situation again I would do exactly the same thing. There hadn't been any thought to it, just instinctive desperation.

_Did I think it was owed to me?_ I wondered. _In that moment did I think I was owed the chance to keep her after resisting her blood? Was that why I changed her? Did some small part of me feel that I_ was_ entitled? _I couldn't be sure. I had been so focused on her survival I had barely considered what right I had to change her.

_What if I had been even a minute later? _ I wondered. _Would her heart have still been strong enough? What if she'd been brought to me in the ER in the middle of my shift? What would I have done? Could I have pronounced her dead? Would I have tried to save her human life? _I tried to imagine but in every scenario I found a way to make her immortal even if I was optimistic about her chances of surviving her wounds. As a human she never would have walked again. She might never have recovered from the brain damage.

I sighed and picked up the book again. For a moment I was just staring at the words I had been absentmindedly reading before. Now I really processed them.

I stood up, the book open in my hand and walked to Esme's door with slow measured steps. I reached for the knob but as soon as my hand closed on it I heard her move. The door creaked and shuddered when she pressed against it suddenly. She didn't want me inside.

"Esme," I said softly.

"Please just leave me alone."

"Oh, Esme," I put my hand against the wood of the door as if I could touch her through it. _I can't do that, _I wanted to tell her. _I've tried over and over but then there you are, right in front of me again. I'm always happy to see you, and I don't think I could leave you now if I tried._

"I'm sorry Carlisle. I know you—you thought better of me." She sobbed once and the door shook with the motion of her body.

"Esme, I never… I could never expect you to be anything but… but what you are… what I made you. I know this is hard, but I have faith in you."

"I broke that!"

"No, Esme, no. This—as terrible as it is—this is not unforgivable."

"I killed someone!"

"Yes, out of instinct not anger. You made a mistake, everyone does. Edward has. Even I do."

"Stop! Please just stop. I don't want to feel right about this!"

"No, Esme. This should never feel _right_. But you need to know… to feel that you can move on."

She was silent and the door shuddered with her soft, nearly silent sobs. I sighed and sat down against the wall beside her door. I settled the book in my lap and waited for her to calm down again. I read softly when I heard her breathing slow to a steady pace.

"'Light Shining out of Darkness by William Cowper'" (1731-1800)

"'God moves in a mysterious way  
His wonders to perform;  
He plants his footsteps in the sea,  
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines  
Of never-failing skill,  
He treasures up his bright designs,  
And works his sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,  
The clouds ye so much dread  
Are big with mercy, and shall break  
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,  
But trust him for his grace;  
Behind a frowning providence  
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,  
Unfolding every hour;  
The bud may have a bitter taste,  
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,  
And scan his work in vain;  
God is his own interpreter,  
And he will make it plain.'"

I sat silently for a moment and listened for Esme's breathing. It had stopped.

"I don't know if everything that happens is meant to be, Esme," I said softly. "But I do believe there is a plan, one greater and more intricate than we can conceive of. Our parts our small but everyone is important. That's not to say that what happened is meant to be or that we have no choice to change our future but… maybe there is a reason you're here. Maybe there's a reason that I found you in the morgue before your heart stopped beating or a reason that you crossed that man's path four nights ago. I can't know by any empirical fact this is true but I believe it. So I keep moving, despite my mistakes, and I come to terms with them."

I closed the book softly and stood to leave. I wished desperately I had Edward's gift and I could know if I had helped her at all. The silence was somehow worse than before while I waited for Edward to return, watching nightfall. Eventually I heard his slow steps on the driveway and I went downstairs to meet him.

He was wearing the most curious expression of confusion when he opened the door though.

_What?_ I asked him.

"We're going hunting tonight," He replied.

Footsteps answered him on the stairs and we both turned to see Esme descending them slowly. I felt a lump in my throat. I wished I could think of something to say to express the relief I felt. I wanted with a physical ache to reach out to her and wrap my arms around, hold her. I didn't think I could ever be close enough to make that longing go away.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs and slowly raised her eyes to look at each of us in turn. Her hair was wild and uncombed, her skin looked paler than usual and her irises were black as her pupils with hunger. When they met mine, they were searching, looking for some emotion on my face. I tried to judge her expression but I didn't know if I was only seeing what I wanted to be there: hope, acceptance, forgiveness, caring. She forced a small smile, just a twitch of her lips and softening around her eyes but it took my breath away. I missed her smile more than air, or light, or warmth.

"Shall we?" Edward asked, knowing I couldn't speak. I just nodded and somehow tore my eyes away from Esme.

"Lets," I said, trying to keep the blazing hope I felt out of my voice. This was just one step toward healing Esme's wounds. Still I felt lighter and warmer every time I laid eyes on her.

_._

**Edward**

_._

Christmas had always been a strange time for Carlisle and I. Carlisle had very few human memories of the holiday as it was banned in England for the majority of his lifetime. I had few memories of it because my father disapproved of the modern superficiality. In truth he would have shunned the entire holiday, and religion itself, if my mother had let him but on this alone he gave in to her wishes. Still it was a somber holiday in my memory and not one I relished any more in immortality. Still it was hard to ignore, particularly in Ashland.

Ashland hospital had a very competent Jewish Doctor and his wife, an equally competent nurse, who were happy to cover many of the shifts leading up to and on the Christian holiday. So Carlisle, who usually volunteered for those days, was sent home with an assurance that should the need arise he would be called.

I found him upstairs Christmas morning, in his study. Esme was out hunting, as she did on her own now and then. I took the opportunity to talk out of her hearing range.

My father, the man I considered more my father than any other, was examining his Christmas gift with a puzzled look. His thoughts were pleasantly floating around Esme and her improving mood over the past few weeks. She'd come out of her depression after her first "slip" suddenly, though I thought Carlisle must have something to do with that, and been working steadily back into her old habits ever since. Less and less, I caught her thinking about the man she killed or descending into grief and guilt. Partly she avoided the downward spiraling thoughts like that by working furiously around the house. She had finished my room in record time. I had to admit was taken with the warm gold and mahogany theme. She was sped through her work on the kitchen, which would now be the envy of any housewife. I did point out the irony to her that we were the least suited people to appreciate it. Now she was engaged in a few dozen sewing projects simultaneously. To all outward appearances she was recovered.

I knew differently. She still saw the gulf between herself and my father. The hopeful future she'd entertained before was all but gone. It was a guilty painful fantasy now that she couldn't quite let go of.

Oblivious of this Carlisle was pleased with her progress and his heart leapt with every smile she gave him. Now he was running his hand over the shirt on top of the small stack of clothes on his desk.

"She likes the sewing machine," I said, announcing my presence unnecessarily.

"Yes," Carlisle said aloud. _I hope she doesn't feel she _needs_ to be useful though. I would rather she make things for herself._

"She is," I answered his thoughts. "There's a blue dress she's particularly excited about. She thinks her mother wouldn't approve of it."

_I don't suppose she had much of a chance for teenage rebellion?_

"No, not that I have ever heard about. Still, it is 1921 not 1660."

_Not everyone was _modest_ in the 1600s._ Carlisle thought, conjuring up images to reiterate his point. Still I could tell his curiosity was piqued. He was looking forward to seeing what Esme's mother would consider risqué. He thought fleetingly what her mother would have said if she'd seen Esme after her first hunt. The image of Esme, beautiful and immortal, in a tattered bloodstained cream and peach dress torn to show skin in a number of quite inappropriate places though she remained reasonably covered, flashed before Carlisle's eyes. I felt a protective edge to his thoughts before he quickly redirected them to Esme's gift.

"Are you going to tell her?" I asked.

"Tell her what?" He turned away from me and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Please," I rolled my eyes. "It's one thing to pretend you aren't physically attracted to her, and another to pretend you don't care about her."

"I do, just as I care about you," He said, sliding on the new garments Esme had made. Much of his clothing was considerably worn and dated. It helped him appear older than the physical 24 years of age he was frozen at.

"Yes but I didn't have an abusive spouse for you to dismember," I goaded him. Carlisle just frowned and I watched him steer his thoughts carefully away from Charles Evenson.

_Yes, I wanted to kill him to save her pain. I wanted to save you and your parents as well. If I could have done so with force I very well might have._

"And what's holding you back now?"

_Esme is new to this life. I don't want to confuse her or force her into anything._

"What if she wants it?"

_Edward, she's very young. She can't be expected to know what she wants for a few more years. This life is hard to come to terms without romantic or sexual problems as well. _

"Could be good for her."

_Or it could be much worse. She's delicate right now emotionally even if she could overpower either of us physically. In a few years she'll understand more about what she's feeling, and then we _might_ discuss it. _I could see that a few years in Carlisle's mind was a few decades. He had no intention of saying anything to Esme. His own feeling for her with tempered with a guilt I didn't quite understand.

"What are you worried about?"

"I turned her into a monster," Carlisle said, face twisted in guilt. But something else lurked under that old burden.

"You saved her life."

"After she tried to end it." Her mangled and bloody body on the morgue gurney flashed before his minds eye.

"Have you asked her about that?"

_What good could it possibly do? It would only bring up painful memories and remind her that _I_ took that choice away from her,_ he thought immediately.

"She_ didn't _want to die though," I said angrily. Esme's most painful memory of instant regret was impossible not to relive. As much as I wanted my father to understand it I knew if he could feel it the way I did, it would hurt him even more than his own guilt. "She regretted it the moment her feet left the earth," I said, remorse in my own voice.

_Edward!_

"She would want you to know this," I cut off his scolding thoughts. "She realized as soon as she'd jumped, as soon as she'd given up life, that for the first time her life was truly hers. She's never been angry or resentful because you saved her."

Carlisle puzzled this new information over in his mind. He never doubted my truthfulness but it meant reevaluating a lot of what he had assumed about Esme's feelings. I resisted the urge to groan. How were the things that were so obvious to me so obtuse to him? In his vague musings thought I caught the reason for the guilt he was hiding from me. Part of his mind still pictured her the way she was when they first met, a sixteen year old, practically a child, innocent and chaste. I laughed out loud.

"You're worried about being… ?"

_Depraved, unprincipled, immoral. _He supplied words for me.

"Old?" I asked, grinning uncontrollably. "Sorry to point this out but she's got two years on you."

_I'm two hundred and seventy four,_ Carlisle thought dryly.

"And if you both live as long as Aro, two hundred years will seem like nothing!" I said chuckling and shaking my head. "You already think we're damned. What will loving her change?"

_Edward, I shouldn't love her! I shouldn't have loved her as a human and I shouldn't now. _

"But you do!" I wanted to growl in frustration. I wasn't having any effect on his resolve.

_Please, promise me you won't mention this to her?_

"Relax," I half sighed, half groaned, "She's already forbidden me from telling her what you think. I'll stay out of this. But you can't keep living in denial." _And neither can she,_ I added in my own head.

"Thank you."

"The shirt looks good on you, by the way," I noted. It did make him look younger.

"Esme has a good eye," He nodded and pointed to my new tan jacket. "I don't think either of us knew how much we needed someone like her around."

"No. But it's hard to imagine life without her now, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Visitor

_._

**Edward**

_._

I was slightly alarmed when I first caught the tenor of the strange mind ahead of me. I slowed and stopped, Carlisle and Esme coming up behind me.

_What is it Edward? _Carlisle asked in thought.

"Someone is at the house, one of our kind. I can hear them. They… He… seems to know you," I said catching more specifics as I focused. I turned to Carlisle who was as confused as I was.

_A Friend?_ Esme wondered. Carlisle never talked about his friends. He had a few in the vampire community that I knew of, mostly nomads. He also had enemies, people who didn't agree with the way he lived and saw him as an abomination. Her eyes flickered to Carlisle worriedly.

_What are his intentions? _Carlisle thought, his mind on a similar track to Esme's. He was considering all the ways he could keep her out of danger. I would have found it comical if I weren't worried about the same thing.

"I don't know." I answered both of them. "He's not really thinking about us, just waiting. He's bored. I think he's been there a while." Esme bit her lip worriedly.

_I'm still stronger than most vampires; maybe I can protect Carlisle and Edward. _I had expected the protective tone she had for Carlisle but her view of me was a shock. It was different, less possessive and more… I couldn't quite decipher it. I knew she would die for Carlisle but she would _kill_ to keep me safe.

_If he proves violent will you protect her? Take her away from here if you can? _Carlisle thought to me. _The lake is your safest bet; he won't be able to follow your scent there._

I just nodded to him. Never mind that Esme would never leave him even if I tried to force her. Carlisle of course was hoping he could smooth the entire thing over with words. Silently we set off, slower now, for home.

Our visitor was lounging on the front porch as if he owned it. He was a tall lanky vampire with a mop of raggedy dark hair and bright red eyes. His clothes, a long brown coat and dark sturdy pants and shirt, were well worn and molted with stains. His mind was surprisingly childlike, flitting from one interesting train of thought to another as soon as they lost novelty to him. He jumped up as soon as he saw us and cried out.

"Carlisle! I knew it was you the moment I crossed the scent!"

"Garret," Carlisle was surprised. _He's a friend, or he was, _my father thought to me.

_He looks wild,_ Esme thought, as she lingered behind Carlisle, still tense and ready to jump in front of us both. I held up a hand behind me to hold her off.

Garret ambled with a definite swagger right up to my father and embraced him with a friendly chuckle.

"You haven't aged a day," he joked and released Carlisle.

"You've gotten, if anything, more riotous," Carlisle replied. Garret's eyes turned to Esme and I. He scanned me with a curious look, noting my youthful appearance and yellow eyes. Then he saw Esme.

_What a mot! _Garret thought as his eyes raked up and down Esme's curves, which he could see all too well in the fitted blue dress she had made for herself. I bit back a growl at the way he thought about her, like a thing to acquire.

"Garret, this is Edward and Esme," Carlisle introduced us. _Edward, _he thought to me,_ it might be prudent to keep your talent quiet for now._ I gave the barest of nods when Garret wasn't looking.

"No longer traveling alone," our visitor noted, "No longer traveling at all. Your house?" He asked pointing back at the building.

"Yes," Carlisle replied.

"I guess there are perks to your peculiarities," Garret said without any trace of hostilities. He truly viewed Carlisle and his lifestyle as a curiosity and nothing more. "So, Ed, how did he convince you to convert? Did he give you the morals speech?" Garret was grinning, remembering his first meeting with Carlisle. He had been ecstatic just to find something new and interesting in the strange European doctor, even if said curiosity was a Brit.

"Something like that," I said and shook hands with the strange new vampire.

"I suppose he just used his manly charm on you, sweets," Garret said to Esme, shaking her hand as well. "Oh!" He laughed when Esme accidentally squeezed to hard. "Firm grip, you must be quite young." Esme looked startled and immediately apologetic. Garret just lifted her hand in his and kissed the back of it, holding her eyes with his-own.

Beside me I felt Carlisle stiffen, uncomfortable to have anyone's teeth so close to Esme's skin.

"Did you change her?" He asked Carlisle, releasing Esme.

"Yes." My father relaxed a little. "Edward as well about 3 years ago in Chicago." Garret was genuinely impressed to hear it. He himself didn't have the control necessary to do so. He'd even tried a couple times over his many years. Not as many years, I noticed, as Carlisle.

"Making a little family for yourself?" He asked. _I wonder which one he wants for his mate. Unless it's both, could be both,_ Garret was wondering. I truly wished in that moment I couldn't see his vivid imagination.

"Carlisle changed me when I was dying of Spanish Flu," I said quickly, trying to distract Garret. "Esme had fallen from a cliff when Carlisle found her." Esme's thoughts were grateful for the selective wording.

"Oh you would pick the lost causes, wouldn't you?" Garret mumbled. "So, are you going to invite me in?" He bounded back toward the house. Carlisle followed, shaking his head.

"You'll come in regardless," my father replied. We both knew Garret would.

"It's the thought that counts right?" Garret joked and I rolled my eyes. Esme and I followed them inside warily. I went straight to my piano, somehow I felt more comfortable there. Esme wandered around the edge of the room, watching Garret and Carlisle in turn.

"So what brings you here?" Carlisle asked, sitting on the sofa. Garret lounged in one of the chairs haphazardly.

"Ran out of battles to fight. I had a bit of fun down in West Virginia but I got told off for poking around in Europe so I'm probably still just sulking. I thought I'd come west and see if anything interesting was brewing."

"I think you'll find the northern border a quiet place."

"Damn Canadians!" Garret chuckled. "I thought about going south."

Carlisle stiffened and I saw a few snatches of stories cross his mind. They were ones I'd heard before and I shivered. Esme looked between the three of us, confused.

"Then I thought better of it," Garret added, looking around the room, noting it was well kept and furnished. His eyes found Esme and he grinned at her lewdly. Embarrassed by the attention, she turned to her sewing area and began straightening it meticulously.

_I bet she's got a feistier side,_ Garret thought.

"I hear that things are still… rough down there." Carlisle said. "But I haven't heard anything in quite a few years."

"You know our kind, we don't forget much," Garret said. "There are still a lot of unresolved feuds down there. The nomads I've met from that way say it's hard to travel without making some allegiances and any allegiance will make you enemies. Not my style."

"But anywhere the US troops are deployed…"

"I'm there," Garret said with a cocky grin. "Once a patriot, always a patriot. Besides, American women are the best." I saw him revisiting the image of Esme's body in his mind, wondering what kind of noises she'd make when touched. Less than a breath later he was savoring the memory of his last meal, a beautiful blond woman with bright blue eyes and tantalizing blood. Even his secondhand memory made my throat ache like it was too close to an open flame. It almost overshadowed my anger at his previous train of thought, but only almost. I was still seething.

"So where have your travels taken you since we last met?" Carlisle asked.

"That was Maryland, 1864," Garret muttered, "I went up and down the east coast a couple times. Saw Texas but I didn't stay long there. Too much sun." He went on about his travels, describing the place and battles for Carlisle. All the while his thoughts would stray back to Esme who was bent over organizing some cut patterns but not really working on them. She was listening, curious to know about new places and hopeful that she might see them one day.

Garret's thoughts were much less innocent. The first was fairly tame and concentrated mostly on what it would be like to explore Esme's body with his hands. The next was more graphic. I began playing, trying to just listen to the spoken words not the thoughts Garret was exploring loudly, ignorant of his audience. I gritted my teeth when he pictured her in wild, animalistic passion. Some small part of my brain admired that he could talk so calmly while picturing such graphic endeavors. I played on, focusing on the expression and intricacies of Chopin's Nocturne No. 1. Garrets thoughts were louder though. He wondered if Esme liked love delicate or rough. He favored rough and lingered on the thought. _How would she react if I came onto her like that?_ He wondered. I could see him picturing her, bending over her table of fabric and his hand coming out to grab her and shove her against the table roughly. In his imagination she responded with equally forceful passion but I knew that would never happen. I had seen similar scenes in Esme's mind where it was Charles coming up behind her with alcohol on his breath, smelling of smoke, growling in her ear and only one thing on his mind. He had been happy enough to leave bruises on her human body and take what he wanted despite her pleading and screams of pain. Esme never fought back in any of her memories. She would not fight Garret either.

My hands slammed down on the piano keys in a discordant thunder of hammers that was drowned out by the vicious growl I couldn't contain. Everyone else jumped. Esme stood and spun so quickly she upturned her chair. Carlisle sat forward, feet planted on the ground but not standing. Garret didn't shift position but he was tensed to move if I attacked.

"Would you _please_," I hissed through my teeth, "refrain from such base fantasies involving Esme!" Somehow 'Esme' didn't begin to cover who she was to Carlisle and I.

"Edward?" Carlisle asked me with a raised eyebrow. _I thought we were being cautious,_ he thought. _Was what he was thinking so bad?_

"Yes," I hissed at him.

Garret was watching me with rapt curiosity. _Can he read minds? _He thought, rightly realizing that I was answering to more than just my name. _If he can that would amazing! I've never seen it's equal in terms of gifts. Charles could tell even when I intended to lie to him. That old bat, Gerda, could put suggestions in people's heads but she had to actually touch them. This boy was on the other side of the room! _

"Interesting," I said, glad at least that he was no longer focused on Esme, "Garret has met two other vampires with similar mental abilities but none were as specific as mine," I told Carlisle. Our guest practically jumped out of his seat with excitement.

"What a talent!" He gaped at me. "Carlisle, did you know he would be so gifted?"

"Not at all," my father said truthfully, "It was as much a surprise to me as it was to Edward himself. Can you imagine the confusion of suddenly knowing the thoughts of everyone around you? It didn't help that we were in the city of Chicago."

"What would that be like?" Garret wondered. He tried to picture it, like all a multitude of TV screens in his head showing him everyone else's mind.

"Not quite like that," I explained, "I do get images but they don't… they feel more like memories to me even if they happen in real time. It's much more like hearing, especially when you direct your thoughts _at _me."

_Makes talking rather superfluous I'd guess. How far does it work? Feet? Yards? Miles?_ His mind was racing with tactical advantages.

"Miles," I answered.

_And close up, you hear everything as I think it?_

"Yes."

_I wonder what that would be like in a fight, to know your opponent's moves before they make them!_

"It made me a bit hard to control as a newborn, Carlisle will tell you. I was very good at getting away from him."

"Yes he was and I never had a hope of overpowering him or catching him." Carlisle had managed to keep up with the audible half of the conversation.

"You still can't catch me, old man," I chuckled.

_I wonder if it works with instinctual fighting? Am I wild enough to be a match for this kid?_ Garret thought.

"I'd be happy to let you try," I offered. "I don't get many wrestling partners." None actually. I watched Garret try to picture Carlisle wrestling. Clearly he'd never seen my father truly angry. I had only seen that twice. Once was in Carlisle's memory of meeting Charles Evenson and the other was our last encounter with an unexpected visitor. Of course if Garret ever followed through with one of his fantasies about Esme he would find out very quickly what Carlisle's rage was. There was nothing wild or uncontrolled about it. My father became cold and focused. It was a deadly combination.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Carlisle said, apprehensively.

"All in good sport," Garret assured him.

"He does mean that," I agreed, seeing only benign curiosity in Garret. I knew he was confidant in his years of experience but I was confident in my ability to predict his moves with more than just my mind reading talent. It would be a fun way to burn off some of my residual anger.

As I followed Garret outside I considered my reaction to his thoughts on Esme. In my mind Esme belonged to Carlisle. I knew she was genuinely devoted to him and he was fiercely possessive of her even if he felt unnecessarily guilty for it. She was his, they simply hadn't acknowledged that yet. But somehow she was also mine. _As what?_ I was forced to ask myself. _A coven-mate? A friend? A cousin? A sister? _None of those terms seemed appropriate. They described my protectiveness toward her but not the way she cared for me and her attention to my happiness. I couldn't help but linger on the care with which she undertook the renovation of my small room upstairs or how she wanted to hear about my musical studies, what I struggled with and what I enjoyed. My mother had been that way, always asking about my life when she couldn't be there beside me. Was that it? I wondered as I took my stance across from Garret in the back yard. He had shed his long coat and was making a show of loosening his muscles and intimidating me. He winked at Esme and I growled.

_Bring it, Kid._ Garret thought. He was just flirting with her now to mess with me. I grinned. For all his inappropriate thoughts, I was actually starting to like Garret.

_._

**Garret**

_._

"I'm very glad I stopped in on my old friend," I said with a hearty laugh. I was laid out on the grass of Carlisle's yard with Edward, the strange mind reader not far away, sitting down after our last bout. It had been a long time since I was so well matched. _You learn fast kid,_ I thought to him, a strange but amazingly efficient way of communicating.

"Thank you. The communicating takes some getting used to. Carlisle was quite unnerved by it for a long time."

_Not surprising. I bet he has a lot of secrets worth hiding after two and a half centuries._

"He's surprising good at hiding them too, even from me. Perhaps he's just better at lying to himself!" There was rueful note in his voice. I looked around, curious if the man we spoke of was within earshot.

"They went hunting a while ago while we were busy. Esme was a bity unsettled by our… game."

_She's a gentle one. She'd make a good match for Carlisle I guess. _From what I knew of Carlisle he was the most human vampire I had ever met. It followed that his mate would be similar. Edward groaned.

"You have no idea!"

_About them? Are they mates?_ They didn't act like it if they were. Usually mates were so in sync they practically existed as one person. How they could live that way, so co-dependent, I would never understand. Edward was a single guy like me. He seemed like the bachelor type. Maybe he understood where I was coming from when I said it really baffled me.

"A bit," He answered my thoughts, "but I see in their heads. She worships him and he's just as devoted to her! It's like their whole world revolves around the other but they're incapable of even imagining it might be mutual."

_How blind has the old fool gotten? Must be the animal blood. Neither of them knows what the other feels?_

"No!" Edward growled. "And both have sworn me to secrecy!"

_Yikes. Bet that's fun to listen to every day,_ I chuckled. _Poor bastard._

"Ugh, I just want to slam their heads together some days."

"Why don't you?" I asked, forgetting I didn't have to speak aloud.

"Carlisle would see it as a breach of Esme's trust and Esme would feel guilty about making me break my word to Carlisle even if they did end up happy. That's assuming that they believe me."

_That's tough. And why I'm better off alone._

"Sometimes I'm inclined to think you're right. Carlisle doesn't agree. He was…. Loneliness didn't suit him."

_Yeah, but we aren't Carlisle._

"True. I haven't met many other vampires but I do know my father is a strange one."

_Father? Is that how you think of him? And he thinks of you as his son?_

"He does. I was never close with my real father so he filled that role for me easily. He feels responsible for me, and not just making sure I don't provoke the Italians."

_And Esme? What does that make her? Your mother?_ When Edward was silent at this quiet thought I looked over at him. He was frowning and his brow was furrowed. How amazing it would be to have his gift, to be able to know what people were thinking in those silent moments.

"It's not always a gift." Edward said suddenly, unnerving yellow eyes snapping to mine. "I see things in other people's head that I wish I didn't. Carlisle's seen the worst side of humanity and I see that. Esme was abused by her husband and went through some of the worst pain anyone can endure and I see that. Random people on the street, I see all the worries and dark desires they keep locked away. You'd be surprised how many human murderers there are."

_So my earlier… thoughts about Esme… _

"Yes, that's why I reacted so strongly. I've seen that in a much less consensual way from her point of view."

_Carlisle would pick the broken one._

"She's not broken. Scarred maybe but she's stronger than you think, stronger than Carlisle thinks."

_I'm glad I stopped by, this is proving to be the most interesting thing I've seen in 20 years. I think I'm going to enjoy staying here. How much do you think I'll have to flirt with Esme to set Carlisle off?_

"He could hardly stand for you to be in the same room with her," Edward said chuckling. "But unless Esme raises to the bait he won't either."

_Challenge accepted._ I grinned and leaned back in the grass. Yes, I was very glad I stopped by.

_._

**Esme**

_._

Garret was a strange visitor in Carlisle's house. He was happy to read whatever books were available thought he rarely finished any one of them. He had Edward teach him the basics of the piano but quickly lost interest. He was fascinated by Carlisle's continued devotion to medicine and how readily Edward and I accepted our creator's strange lifestyle. After the first day he was even an enjoyable person to have around. Edward was excited to have a sparing partner, though I could never bear to watch them even mock fighting. I enjoyed hearing of Garrets travels. He was an animated storyteller and spent each evening entertaining us with stories. Carlisle enjoyed the company and conversation of someone closer to his peer (at least in terms of age), reminiscing of times that Edward and I had only read about in history books. It made me wonder, to see Carlisle so invigorated by company, what he must have been like before Edward and I came into his life, when he was alone.

I could have done without Garret's flirting though. He took every offered opportunity and when there wasn't one, he fabricated it. Each time Garret would share a look with Edward in some silent conspiracy. I simply rolled my eyes at the two of them and tried to be as unaffected as Carlisle look by the whole thing.

At last, Garret bored of us as he did of everything eventually, or so he told me. Edward and I saw him out as Carlisle was on shift. He'd said goodbye to Garret every morning he went to work.

"If you tire of us before I return, it was good to catch up with you again. Look us up again in a few decades." It was always the same and probably a good thing that he did so because when Garret decided to leave it was suddenly and he acted without delay.

"I'm off," He said, putting down a half finished book.

"Enjoy Minneapolis," Edward said as he came downstairs.

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Garret said, pulling on the old jacket, now mended and patched with reinforced pockets. He had seemed genuinely thankful when I offered to fix the jacket. It only made his shallow flirtations all the harder to endure. Edward and I saw him out the front door.

"You sure I can't convince you to come with me, my pretty mot?" He asked, taking my hand and kissing the back of it like an old fashioned gentlemen.

"Quite." I replied.

"Oh well," Garret shrugged. "Worth a try." Edward laughed at something in Garret's mind a moment later. I looked at him to be included but he just shook his head at me.

"Take care, tell Carlisle I'll be back eventually. I give him another sixty years at the most! Pea-brain food won't keep you forever." With that he was gone. No sentimentality. The trees of the forest rustled slightly as he passed. Edward just chuckled to himself and shook his head.

"What a strange man," he said as we went back inside to resume our life.

"Does he always live like that?" I asked. "Moving from place to place?"

"Yes, according to Carlisle most of our kind does."

"Hmm." I frowned and sat on the couch, picking up my own book but not reading it. "I suppose we'll see him again eventually. It's hard to think what life will be like in decades without aging."

"I try not to," Edward muttered. I was about to go back to my book when he spoke again.

"Esme," he sounded uncharacteristically unsure, "there's something… I wanted to talk to you about."

"What? Edward," I got up and moved to stand beside him at the piano stool when he hesitated. "You know you can talk to me about anything."

"Yes, that's… part of it actually." He looked at me, debating his words for a long moment and I tried not expect anything. I truly didn't know where he was taking this conversation. "You know I think of Carlisle as my father."

_Yes,_ I thought. _Carlisle acts like a father. He's taught us both so much about this life, it's natural to see him that way. _Edward nodded.

"You don't though."

_Maybe I should. _I was sure he thought of me that way, as a daughter or younger friend. _But I had a father. Carlisle and my relationship with him is very different._

"I was never close to my human father. He was a very distant and serious person. I don't think…No, I know he didn't care for me personally the same way Carlisle does. Even in my human life I was very attuned to other's thoughts. To my father I was an extension of himself, meant to continue his work and legacy, not really my own person. Carlisle has never seen me that way, even when he taught me about the way he lives his life."

_I think I understand what you mean,_ I thought, thinking of my own mother and her obsession with my marriage prospects.

"Yes, I think you do. But… my mother was…"

_She cared very much about you. Carlisle said she was the one who asked him to change you. She wanted to save your life in any way she could. If I given the chance I would have asked the same for my little boy. _I shuddered to remember Carlisle's description of the immortal children but I knew I would have asked anyway. Edward shuddered with me.

"She taught me to play," he said, running his fingers over the keys of his instrument, "and when my father thought it time for me to quit music for _real_ studies she persuaded him to let me continue. She knew how much I loved it."

_She sounds wonderful,_ I thought with a note of jealousy I couldn't restrain. I wondered if my son, if he had survived, would ever have spoken of me so highly.

"I think he would have. You make a great mother," Edward said softly.

_Yes I think I would have._

"I think you do."

His words shocked me. I didn't understand them for a long moment but as he explained they became so obviously clear to me I don't know why I didn't see it before.

"No one can take my human mother's place but since Carlisle brought you into my life you filled a role that she left. I—I don't think I was quite ready to see it at first. It's strange to realize that I can love you both."

I realized his words went both ways. Edward was not my Lyle, the child of my own blood, but he was dear to me as a son. I had taken him into that role without knowing or being ready to acknowledge it. Now I saw that I did love them both separately but just as strongly as the other.

_You would want me as your mother? _I asked him, a lump in my throat.

"Yes. If you would have me for a son."

"Of course, Edward, of course." I threw my arms around him, very careful to be gentle (my strength hadn't faded that much yet). He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me back. _I'm so glad I get this chance to be here with you and Carlisle. I never thought I could have this even before Lyle and Charles. It's so much more than I thought it would be._

"Trust me, we didn't know how much better our lives would be until you came into them."

I wondered how much Carlisle would agree with that. I decided that for now it was ok just to be Edward's adopted mother, to see Carlisle every day and know I was wanted, really wanted, somewhere.

* * *

Author's Note: Well that was fun. I kind of love Garret. He's cocky and doesn't seem to have any qualms about what he is, adventure driven and capricious. I also think Kate, who can put him on his ass when he deserves it, is the perfect match for him. -Ember


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Mementos

_._

**Edward**

_._

I thought I would be more reluctant to start over in Rochester. Ashland was the first place I lived with Carlisle for any amount of time. It was where Esme came into my life (back into Carlisle's). We all had good memories in that house but unlike my memories of Chicago immortal memories don't fade. Still I'd watched the house as Esme fixed and fussed. When we finally sold it to a happy couple expecting their first child I wouldn't have recognized it as the same structure. Esme was ecstatic even if she could hardly stand to be near the family for more than a few minutes. She could see the hopeful looks passed between the husband and wife. It was a dream home, not just for them but also for Esme, an impossible dream in her mind. She felt a pang of jealousy when the couple shared loving looks or touches. I saw her trying not to imagine herself and Carlisle in the same actions. But more than that she envied the couple their child.

Esme hadn't wanted children before she became pregnant and being with child had not been easy or convenient for her. She didn't have any of the supports a new mother should: husband, family, friends, home, and income. She had a rented room and a rural schoolteacher's wages. Now she had Carlisle and I, she had a beautiful home and never worried about money. Finally in a place where she might have thought to have children she couldn't and never would be able to.

I heard her thinking about this as the couple drove off from their second visit to see the house, wondering myself how I could possibly comfort her. Then her thoughts turned to me unbidden and she swelled with happiness and pride. Maybe she couldn't have children of her own flesh and blood but she had me. _He has lost his mother and I have lost my son,_ She thought, _we can take care of each other even if those wounds won't heal completely._ I hugged her as soon as she walked in the door because as much as I meant to her, she meant the same to me. It felt right to hug her that way. It made me realize how devoid of living contact my life had become. Carlisle was not a physically affectionate father (nor was his) and the touch of humans was closer to agony than comfort. I decided then, conventional expectations of men aside; I was going to hug my mother more often.

(Of course when you were perpetually 17, you could lift cars with ease, accumulate money without even breathing and charm any woman just by smiling at them you could afford to loose a few man-points.)

Within two weeks of that day Ashland disappeared between the trees out the back window of Carlisle's car. Esme's sewing machine was in the trunk. The ancient cross Carlisle's father had carved was wrapped up in his clothing in his trunk. The suitcase from Esme's human life was repacked and laid beside her in the backseat. My own bag was mostly books though I did have more clothing leaving than coming. It wasn't very much that we took with us. But I realized that it was everything important.

Rochester was different and yet similar. It was also just off one of the Great Lakes. We arrived in the worst of winter to the little house nestled on a sizeable plot of land between two larger houses on a long winding street. Still much closer to town than our last house, it offered access to the forest and some tree cover from the street. It was a small craftsman style bungalow, only one story, with an offset porch, deep enough to shade the front windows, and wide inviting front windows.

Esme loved it at first sight and immediately set about furnishing it. She craftily converted the filled the dinning room with more shelves than table space, while it still remained passably functional should human guests come inside. My piano dominated one half of the living room and the remainder of our library decorated the walls around it. Carlisle's cross took pride of place over the mantle and Esme's sewing machine went into the otherwise unused kitchen. For the first months in the her room was a riot of wood, catalogs, fabric and various paints and varnishes while she set up the house.

She was getting better and better with her control, practicing with Carlisle and I by shopping for furniture and accessories. She knew I often bored of such trips so she was determined not to mess up again. Carlisle was hopeful about her progress but the memory of her first slip made him cautious. As board as I was, that memory haunted me too.

Carlisle was around in the day more often now that he was in night school, working on yet another medical degree. I was taking two classes in music and history and struggled to sit through either of them without grinding my teeth. I think I hunted as much as Esme those first months. I was happy to hug her as soon as I came home each evening if only to let her scent clean out the wonderfully agonizing smell of human blood in my nose. I had to listen to Carlisle's pang of jealousy every time I did though. Sometimes I gave him meaningful looks but he staunchly ignored me.

Our cover story was trickier to decide on, partly because being in school and so close to town put us under more scrutiny. It also had to explain our lack of involvement in the War. I looked too young but Carlisle was of the right age. In Ashland he had simply told the truth, he had been a doctor in the Chicago Influenza Ward and never drafted. Now, posing as a 21 year-old med student, he was of an age with the young draftees who had returned. So he adopted my story, the last surviving member of his family wiped out by the flu. I was posing as the orphaned son of a soldier and God-son of Carlisle's parents. He was now my guardian having inherited me along with a sizable sum of money. The exact number was a source of speculation in the small town. Esme was explained to be my second cousin from my mothers, poorer side of the family, who was employed as our housekeeper. It irked me the way people thought of her as our charity case. They speculated that Esme was divorced or her family hadn't wanted her for other reasons. Someone started a vicious rumor that she had been pregnant out of wedlock and had an abortion. That one bothered me more than the rumor she was trying to marry Carlisle for his money, perhaps because of how close to right it was and yet how wrong. Others thought there must be some reason she wasn't married, being as beautiful as she was. It didn't help that many of them were jealous of Esme and she was never in public long enough to be well known. If they had met her I knew they couldn't help but see the kind-hearted woman she was. But Esme still struggled with being around humans for any period of time and kept to the house out of necessity.

What I hated most about Rochester has absolutely nothing to do with Rochester itself and everything to do with my father. Esme was of course involved but I could never find it in myself to blame her for her silence even when her near constant thoughts of my father annoyed me. I think it was a combination of getting her thirst under control so it no longer dominated a large portion of her mind and Carlisle being around more in the day, not just on our long nighttime hunting trips and wilderness hikes. The reason Carlisle bothered with night school at all, though he would never admit it, was to have more time with Esme. He would happily explain to me the medical advances that had happened since he was last in school and the benefits of posing as younger in a new community or even Esme's youth in immortal years. _I should have been around more in Ashland to help her through this,_ he thought to me and it was a genuine thought but underneath it I could feel his real purpose.

Carlisle and Esme were like ships passing in the night, each convinced they were the only thing in the sea for miles. Only they were sitting in the same room, sneaking glances at each other like teenagers. It seemed every third paragraph Carlisle read he found something to consider sharing with Esme. For a moment he would debate it then throw it away and move on. I could hardly play my piano without having to listen to Carlisle stifling questions for Esme. I listened to their mutual eager restlessness in the hours before their walks around the park or by the river. I broke down and asked them to leave more than once rather than listen to the two repressing their rush. I was more tempted to break my promises in those months than I have ever been. How can such smart people be so stupid? I asked myself over and over. But the days wore on and so did their silence.

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

I hardly looked at the date of the paper when I brought it in.

"Ridiculous," I muttered and sat down on the couch to read the article that hadn't even made the front page.

"What is it?" Edward asked as he and Esme came in the back door from their early morning hunt. I paused in my reading to watch her breeze through the living room, tidying absentmindedly and leaving the smell of dew, oak, and ferns in her wake. She moved gracefully, her blue and white patterned dress swaying with every step. It was nice to see her in brighter colors. Most of the clothes she'd brought to Ashland were neutral and sedated. They did suit the happy demeanor she had now.

Edward tapped my shoulder and I pulled my thoughts away from Esme to hand over the paper, recounting what I'd read to him mentally. He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Something amusing?" Esme asked where she was rearranging the books on the shelf back into alphabetical order. I wondered if it would be petty to rearrange the top shelf so I could watch her fix it. Yes, I told myself forcefully, it most certainly would. Edward chuckled.

"Not really, Esme," he said. "The War Reparations Commission has decided Germany owes the allied 132 billion gold marks."

"132 billion?" She turned to him with a confused look. "Can any country afford that?"

"The US might," I said with a sigh, "but Germany won't be able to. I hate to think of what's happening there. It was such a different place last time I saw it."

"After what's happened in the past four years maybe it's better this way. No one wants to see this again," Edward said.

Esme crossed the room to read over his shoulder and he passed her the paper. I was still lost in memories of my last visit to Germany when I heard Edward groan. The paper dropped to floor and less than a second later Esme's door slammed on the other side of the house. I jumped up and looked quickly to my son.

_What? Is she alright? Did we say something? Did I say something?_ But Edward was shaking his head. Silently he bent to pick up the paper and flipped to the front page. He mutely handed it to me and pointed at the date: 28th of April 1922.

For a moment the date meant nothing to me. It was two days shy of the day I changed Esme a year ago. Then I realized the important days had come and gone. Lyle's birthday and death had passed unnoticed. _How did we not notice? What is she thinking right now? What do we do? _I was half panicked with helplessness.

Edward motioned for me to follow him and numbly I did. He lead me almost to the road where were stood in the shadow of the largest tree in the long front yard.

"She can't hear us here if we're quiet," Edward said softly.

_How did we let his happen?_

"I don't know. I've barely thought about the date. I've been so focused on school and monitoring gossip," he said. There was a lot of weight on his shoulders now to look out for any suspicions that would reveal or threaten us.

_This isn't your fault,_ I thought firmly. _I should have known this was coming. But like you, I've been figuring out this new life and…_

Edward groaned. "You're driving me crazy! Tell her how you feel."

_Now is _definitely _not the time. _I threw him an exasperated look. He did look satisfactorily chagrined.

I sighed heavily. _What can we do?_ I asked him silently.

"Nothing really," he shook his head. "She just needs time I think. She feels guilty right now. She's been so happy the past few weeks working on the house and feeling more in control around humans. She hardly looks at the date anymore, what's the need? I think she's happy to let a lot of her human memories fade, much more than you or I am."

_All the tragedies she's lived through, I can't blame her. There are parts of my memory I wish I could blur out. _

"They bother her less. When was the last time a loud noise made her jump? You remember how scared she was in the beginning. That's all gone now."

_Sometimes I think she remembers Charles though,_ I thought, recalling her moments of silence when her smile slipped despite her efforts.

"Yes she still thinks of him but she doesn't linger on those thoughts like she used to. She is healing. Even she can see that. I think that's why this hurts so much now. She doesn't feel like she should be healing."

I considered Edwards words and I understood. It had taken me a long time not to feel guilty about my happiness just to have Edward and Esme for company. I might always hate myself for damning them to this life but I could allow myself to enjoy life with them at the same time. Still the anniversary of her son's short life would be a hard reminder to overcome. _We can't let this happen again, _I thought to Edward.

"She won't let it." He assured me.

Silently we headed back for the house. There was nothing we could do there but perhaps our presence would help.

{Note: I wrote this scene thinking Esme was changed in 1920, making it set in 1921 but she was changed in 1921 making this scene in 1922. So the event in the paper actually happened in 21 but I'm too lazy to rewrite the whole thing. History fiction… meh.}

_._

**Esme**

_._

Carlisle was surprised to see me when I emerged from my room in the late afternoon wearing a sensible dress and coat appropriate for the cold snap of weather that was blowing through town. He hid it well though. Edward gave me a weak smile.

"Have fun on your walk," He said like always but this time to spur his shocked father into action. I sent him a silent thank you while I waited for Carlisle to get read. Edward put aside his book and came over to embrace me quickly.

"He's been worried about you," Edward whispered in my ear.

_I'm sorry,_ I replied. _I know I worried you both._ He just nodded and sat down at his neglected piano and began to play.

"Shall we?" Carlisle asked and held out his arm to me. That was the last thing we said for most of our walk. The park was nearly empty so I could even enjoy the fresh air as we ambled between the first flowers and the hopefully budding trees.

It was comforting just to hold onto his arm even if I wanted to do more. I was desperate for some physical connection or I might have just stayed in my room for weeks staring at my little picture. I had it with me in my pocket, not quite ready to part with it.

"I wish there was a grave," I said suddenly, surprising even myself. Sometimes I forgot that there was no delay between wanting to move my lips and their action. "I mean I wish I had a place that I could go to be… near to him."

"I know what you mean," Carlisle said softly. "I… there isn't much left of the London that I grew up in. The graves of the people I knew—even my father—are gone now."

"Do you still miss him?" I asked. _Will I still mourn for my little boy in two centuries? Carlisle never mentions anyone from his past. What kind of a man could raise someone so kind and compassionate as Carlisle, _I wondered. _Wouldn't he have to be the same? Someone worth remembering at least?_

"No," he shook his head as if he heard my thoughts. "My father was… not a loving man. It would be more accurate to say he had one love and that was God. I spent many years trying to appease my father with my devotion and faith but I never had the relationship I wanted with him. Still, I keep his cross. It reminds me of him and how far I have come."

"His cross? On the mantle?" Esme asked. "I—I had no idea it was so old."

"He carved it himself before I was born." Carlisle was looking pointedly ahead of us with a look of concentration as if he were trying hard to remember something or not to remember something.

I wondered vaguely what I would have left of my human life in two and a half centuries. The little photo in my pocket might not be more than dust by then. What was left of Edward's life? His parents?

"I suppose we'll all lose touch with where we came from eventually," I said frowning. "I should be thankful I have what I do." Carlisle stopped suddenly and turned to me. His expression was tortured.

"Esme, please, don't say that as if you deserve this…" his mouth moved but he had no words for what he meant. I felt my eyebrows knitting together. "You never deserved to have your son or your human life stolen away from you. To watch the world changing around you and remain unaffected, frozen this way, it's not something anyone deserves." His words stunned me. _Didn't deserve? I didn't deserve this life; it was too perfect. I didn't deserve life at all._

"I threw myself off a cliff," I said breathlessly, my mind hung on the last terrifying moment of mortifying regret. An answer flashed across Carlisle's mind, I saw it in his eyes but the emotion that went with it confused me. Why should he feel guilt at my suicide? He saved me. That should be cause for pride. He swallowed and looked down, away from my face.

"It can seem like the right answer when you are alone in the world," he said softly, when he looked up to meet my eyes I saw understanding there, not the pity that I expected. I felt myself trapped in his gaze and I was happy to stay there. I felt like he could see past my grief to the terrible loneliness that had dragged me to that cliff. Maybe I jumped because of the grief but that wasn't what brought me to the edge.

"I tried it," Carlisle explained to me without looking away, "not long after I entered this life. I tried every way I could think of to die… to not be the monster that I had become. I hated myself and I knew I could never return to my father. He had spent years hunting down humans on the suspicion that they were daemons or witches. He killed many people more innocent than me. I found out we are a lot harder to kill than human's though or I wouldn't be here today."

_I never would have met you!_ I thought and it made the breath catch in my throat trying to imagine a world without Carlisle.

"I'm glad you are," I said softly and squeezed his arm, drawing myself a little closer to him. He smiled a little.

"So am I," he said. "There are a lot of people I never would have met, a lot of people I never could have helped, and my life has only gotten better since then. I have hope it will get better still and that…" He hesitated. "That yours will be the same." His beautiful eyes smiled down at me and I couldn't help but feel warmer and lighter. I took a deep breath and bit my lip to keep from crying. Even without tears I could still sob and I didn't want him to see that.

We began walking again while the sun set behind the tall city buildings lighting up the clouds in warm colors. A group of women smiling and laughing passed us on the path and their smell swirled around us. I breathed in the smallest breath as they passed and felt the burn in my throat aching to be satiated. I recognized the part of my mind that wanted to give in to instinct and hunt but recognizing it I could resist and keep my composure.

I knew Carlisle was watching and after the group had passed I felt him relax. He trusted me and my control. I felt like jumping for joy. I had come a long way already from the little house in Columbus. Carlisle was right that my life had only gotten better since the moment I jumped starting with my instant regret. It would get even better. I would be able to go out into the world again, meet people—human people—and have an almost normal life. Better than normal if Carlisle was in it. I knew as hard as it had been to get to get here, walking comfortably with Carlisle in public knowing Edward was waiting for us at home, there were still hard times ahead of me. But all the darkness God had ever laid in my path seemed thin if I could just face it with Carlisle.

_._

**Edward**

_._

I was waiting for Carlisle to return when Esme's mind, calling my name, caught my attention.

_Edward,_ she asked tentatively. She was even hesitant to think of asking me for help. I don't think she would have if I couldn't hear her thoughts; actually speaking the words would give her time to rethink them. _Would you come in here and tell me what you think?_

I put aside the book I wasn't reading and ventured into her room at the back of the house. She was in front of the tall mirror examining her outfit. It was conservative in color and style, made specially for the occasion and accented by a colorful pin made of artful cloth and bead flowers she had made. Her hair was pinned up properly under a little navy blue hat and her hands were covered with sensible white gloves.

_Do I look alright?_ She asked me worriedly.

"You look wonderful, Esme. Better than any school teacher I ever had!"

_Oh no, maybe something less flattering,_ she thought frantically. As if anything could be unflattering on Esme. After seeing Carlisle's mind I didn't think she would ever look anything other than beautiful to me.

"No, no, Esme. I meant you look… composed. I went to a boys school. All the teachers looked harassed because they were."

_I can't believe that. What did they all do to deserve being harassed?_

"We were 13 year old boys!"

_Alright,_ she relented and went back to considering her dress. _I still think it might be too attractive. I don't want them to think I'm showing off._

"You look great, Esme. They'd be foolish not to hire you. I think they might just out of curiosity."

"What?" She asked, turning to me. "What do they have to be curious about?"

"Well you're the beautiful cousin come to live with her unmarried wealthy relative and his very unmarried and wealthy guardian."

_That's a terrible reason to hire a school teacher!_ She scowled. _Maybe I shouldn't go to the interview if they're not going to hire the right person._

"What if you are the right person?"

_What if I'm not? I could be dangerous to them Edward!_

"I don't think you will be and it's only a part-time job just for the summer, a few hours a day helping the teacher. It will probably be paperwork, grading and stuff like that, not even near the children. It's also summer school, there won't be as many children as during the school year."

_What if I'm not ready? _She fretted, straightening her dress and frowning at the mirror. She was trying not to remember her "slip." Still his face was clear in her memory. _I don't think I could live with myself if I hurt a child._

"Which is why you wont. If you don't think you're ready now then you never will! What you need now is confidence in yourself. That means taking a few risks."

_Alright,_ Esme said, biting her lip but more sure in her decision. I couldn't smooth out all her anxieties but I think I helped a little.

The front door opened and I heard Carlisle's almost equally anxious mind enter the house.

"Come on, he'll want to see you all dressed up."

"Is it too dressy?" She asked.

"No," I assured her chuckling. We went out to meet Carlisle in the living room, Esme trailing behind me. He was standing by the door with a small jewelry box in his hand.

"I've been trying to assure Esme she looks the part but she doesn't quite believe me," I told my father and ushered her into the room in front of me. Carlisle's reaction was more than I expected it to be. He lingered on the nervous excitement in her face, the way she looked with her hair pinned up and the personal touches to her outfit. He was speechless as he often was when he looked at her but usually I had the sense not to ask him questions in those moments.

"He agrees with me," I told Esme.

"Y-Yes I do."

"You don't even know what he said," Esme criticized and bustled over to the little mirror beside the door to check her hair needlessly.

"I'm sure it was kind and… and you look very nice, Esme."

She straightened up and turned to look at him.

"Thank you." She said just as stunned by his words as he was to have said them. I held back a groan at my ridiculous parents. I wanted very much to put a hand on the back of each of their stone hard skulls and crack them together. Or maybe just give them my gift (read curse) for a moment so they could understand he absurdity of the moment.

"Edward and I have a gift for you," Carlisle said suddenly breaking the moment. "We—well I—Edward really was the one who—"

"Just give it to her," I said with a roll of my eyes and sat down at my piano. It was the best thing to do when I needed to distract myself from how much I wanted to break my promises.

"Right," Carlisle muttered and held out the square jewelry box. Esme took it cautiously.

_I hope it's not something expensive. I haven't even started making money yet and they've already given me so much. I don't think I've contributed nearly enough._

"I didn't spend a penny on it and Carlisle only paid for the engraving," I told her and started softly playing one of her favorite tunes. She opened the box with slightly shaking hands and gasped, both mentally and physically. For a moment she was speechless.

_It's beautiful! Is it real gold? I bet it is. This is too much!_ She lifted the gold bangle from the box slowly with the gentlest touch, scared to damage the inlays of art nouveau flower patterns. Then her eyes caught the inscription on the inside.

Carlisle Ethan Robinson April 23 – 25, 1921

She quickly covered her mouth before Carlisle could see her lip quivering.

"We thought you might like something to carry around to remind you, something that will last," Carlisle said softly.

"But… it's so…" She fumbled for words.

"It belonged to my mother," I told her, not pausing in my playing. "Turn it around."

Esme twisted the bracelet to see on the opposite side a similar but older inscription.

Edward Anthony Masen June 20, 1901

"She would have wanted you to have it," I told her. This way Esme could carry both of her sons around with her.

"I—I don't know what to say," she whispered. Knowing what it was made her want to accept it all the more but it also made her feel less worthy.

"Say you'll accept it," I told her.

"Please," Carlisle added. I tried to concentrate just on my playing when she met his eyes. For a moment they were each in their own little worlds longing for the other. I wished there was some physical wall between the two of them I could forcefully smash. There was a mental one but I had been shackled in regards to that one.

"Yes," She said breathless and I stopped playing, jumping up to hug her happily. She laughed at my childish reaction but I didn't care. Any amount of foolery seemed worth it to make her laugh. Carlisle loved the sound too even if he wanted desperately to take my place at that moment. "Edward you'll mess up my dress."

"Sorry, mom," I said and immediately put her down. A torn dress was not a great first impression. "I'm glad you like it. It was Carlisle's idea, I just supplied the gold."

"It's perfect," She said looking from me back to my father at the door.

"You'd better get going though," I told her.

"Oh yes," She quickly dashed back to the mirror to check herself again. She fumbled with the clasp of the bracelet.

"Let me," Carlisle offered. I silently applauded him as I sat back down at my piano. He actually took the initiative to touch her! Good for him. I wanted to roll my eyes but I resisted.

"Good luck," I called and Esme gave me her best attempt at a smile before leaving. Carlisle leaned inside to close the door behind him and I mouthed 'tell her.' He glared.

_Not the right time,_ he thought to me for the hundredth time. I groaned and played the first few bars of Flamin Mainni just to annoy him.

_Mature,_ was his sarcastic comeback. I wished I could throw it right back at him. I didn't know how much more of this I could stand. As annoying as their little dance was it wasn't what really got me. No, what got me was that they would be so happy when they finally got the courage to open up to each other.

* * *

Author's Note: Ok, I love this a little too much. It's like watching those movies with the two totally oblivious lovers except I get to write all of my annoyance at them. Thank you Edward, medium for my fourth wall breaking escapades! -Ember


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Ink

_._

**Esme**

_._

I felt the pen tip crumple under the pressure of my hand. Ink pooled on the white page under it and I uttered a very unladylike curse. I dropped the broken object onto the page, dark spots of ink splattering across it, and with a wave of my hand sent the whole sketchbook tumbling onto the floor. It fell with a loud thwack flat on the floorboards. I petulantly growled at it, a surprisingly intimidating sound but the mess of ink and paper didn't so much as quiver. I sighed and dropped my head into my hands.

"Esme?" I heard Carlisle's worried voice and the front door open at the same time. His inhumanly fast footsteps slowed when they reached the hallway outside my room less than a second later. I felt a stab of guilt for worrying him but I couldn't raise my head to look. I knew he would be able to see the broken pen and the pad of paper on the floor next to me. "Are you alright?" He asked coming in cautiously. "You haven't broken anything in months."

"And that's the second pen today!" I groaned. I heard him kneel by the pad and pick it up. I knew what he would see under the splatters of the broken pen. My name was written out two or tree dozen times across the page in my scrawling signature. But once or twice where I meant to write Platt I had begun the loops of an E instead.

"The second?" He asked. "What happened to the first?"

I sighed. Part of me wished I'd kept my mouth shut. Another part of me wanted to tell him. There was nothing he could do about it but somehow I hoped telling him would make me care less.

"It was at the school. I went to sign the paperwork."

"You got the job?"

"Yes, they called just after you left for class."

"That's wonderful."

"Yes," I agreed sedately. He sounded genuinely happy for me but it made me feel all the worse for my bad mood now. It was a small stupid thing to let ruin my success. The teaching job was what I wanted. I would finally be able to meet people and actually make friends, even if I had to keep them at arms length both figuratively and literally. But something was still holding me back.

"I'm confused," he said, sitting down on the edge of my bed and I snuck a glance at his face. It was troubled, his amber eyes locked on me intently. _Maybe I shouldn't tell him,_ I thought. Every time this particular subject came up he became tense and taciturn. His eyes looked hard and cold like he was hiding something behind his serious face. I wondered what it was but it scared me a little to find out.

"Please, Esme, if there's anything I can do to make this right," He said, "I want to. If you're not ready please don't think I'm trying to force you into anything. You are still very new to this life. It's alright not to be ready for this step."

"No, I—I am… at least for the job. It's just…" I shook my head and looked out the back window of my room. It was hard to admit something so silly when he was looking at me with such serious eyes. "It's stupid."

"Nothing that bothers you could be stupid," he replied and it sounded like he genuinely believed it.

"It was just a thoughtless mistake. I went in just to discuss the schedule for summer school and to sign the formal paperwork. It was just Mrs. Roan and all the windows were open. I actually felt… comfortable talking to her about the children and she seemed to like my suggestions. For once I just felt… human. Then she gave the formal paperwork and all I really had to do was sign it. I did it without even thinking, like reflex."

"Oh." He seemed to understand.

"I was so shocked I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to explain it so I broke the pen and smudged it out."

"Pens break all the time."

"It's not that I broke something or even that I nearly broke our cover," I shook my head. "I just didn't realize that I still think of myself as…" The words wouldn't get past the lump in my throat. I didn't even want to say it out loud. I turned away and gave a half lie knowing it would sound weak. "I guess I haven't had much reason to sign anything so I'm still in that habit."

"That's reasonable." He said but I could hear the tension I had expected in his voice. "If you would like you don't have to go by Platt either."

"No, I would like to keep the name, even if it's just while we live in Rochester. Besides it would be hard to change it now." I looked down at my hands and the spots of ink that dotted them now.

Even if I went by Esme Platt the rest of my immortal life, I knew that somewhere I was still Esme Evenson. If my mother reported me missing then somewhere the police were looking for me. Maybe they would even pronounce me dead eventually. I wonder if I would get a gravestone and what it would say. I could picture it, a simple gray rectangular stone over an empty coffin with the inscription: Esme Platt Evenson daughter, wife, and mother 1895-1921. I frowned. It bothered me more than it should have. In so many ways I felt like a different person but at the same time I still felt like the wife who ran from her husband with a child in her womb and barely twenty dollars to her name. I had left Esme Evenson, the battered wife behind, but I still wasn't Esme Platt again. I was just Esme. Signing anything else didn't seem right.

"Like I said, It's stupid," I told him taking a deep breath. "Here let me get that before you get ink on your shirt." I reached for the sketchbook that was now a small lake of shinny black liquid. Mutely he handed it back to me. I busied myself with cleaning it up the best I could while Carlisle just sat on my bed, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I never asked where the name Cullen came from. Was it the name you were born with?"

"Hmm?" He seemed to surface out of his thoughts but something remained in his expression, like he was preoccupied. "Yes it was. I've gone by many different names over the years but I prefer my own if I can keep it."

"I guess so much else changes it's nice to have one thing stay the same."

"For a long time that was true. I actually worry about it less now. Knowing that Edward and you will always know me for myself is a great weight off my shoulders."

_Perhaps he's right,_ I thought. _If Carlisle and Edward know who I am why worry about a name. I'll always be Esme to them. That's what matters. _I tried to convince myself of this. The front door opened in the middle of my thoughts and Edwards footsteps cross the threshold.

"Ready for an night time run?" I asked Carlisle.

"I actually have some work that I need to do."

I tried not to be disappointed. Edward appeared in the hall a second later with a grim face.

"Welcome home," I said and stood up to hug him as I always did. He clung to me more than usual.

"Hard day?" I asked and he just nodded into my shoulder. "Come on then, a hunt will do us both good."

"Coming Carlisle?" he asked as we headed out. Carlisle had followed us far as the hallway but was not standing between his room and mine with a very concentrated look on his face.

"No, not now," he said. Edward just shrugged and we left him there.

"What were you two talking about?" Edward asked when we were out of earshot of the house.

_Just something silly that was bothering me._ I said, trying not to think of the specifics.

"Fine, I won't pry. Maybe Carlisle will tell me when he get's back."

"He's going somewhere?" I asked.

"Yes, didn't he tell you? He's planning some kind of trip."

"No. He didn't." I said frowning. I looked back to where the house had disappeared between the trees and wondered what was hiding behind that serious face. I shivered and sped up to keep pace with Edward.

_._

**Charles Evenson**

_._

I stumbled home the night I met _him_ cursing the damn barkeep and his goons. I wasn't nearly drunk enough to deserve being manhandled into the street. I was a paying customer. What right did they have to turn me out? The half rate dump could use patronage like me. Well see if they find me back _there _again! Still I had my bottle and it would be enough to get me to sleep tonight. I fumbled with my key in the lock and finally got it to turn. Damn thing, always sticking. I'd have to get it fixed eventually.

The house was still and cold as always. I nearly tripped over the hall table as I passed it and cussed at the damn nuisance. It was useless anyway. She was always filling my life with useless crap.

The light gave a soft click, throwing light vertically across the hall, and I jumped, spinning around to see what was there in the dark. I missed him at first. He was sitting so still in that little pool of light. His skin was a sharp white in the high contrast and his eyes caught and reflected the light almost like a cat. He looked more like a statue sitting on my couch than a man. For a long moment I just stared at him and he looked right back at me with those unnatural eyes as if he could see through me.

"Mr. Evenson," he said finally and his voice was surprisingly gentle for the hard-edged frown he had on his face. It struck a cord in my memory. "I require your assistance in a matter that concerns your wife." I swallowed and felt a chill down my spine. Something about his stillness and the controlled way that he talked sent my heart pounding. I knew instinctively this wasn't the kind of experience I was likely to live through.

I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran. But no sooner had I turned back for the door than he was in my way like a blur of motion he was suddenly between me and the hallway, glaring down with his eyes shadowed. His lips pulled back in a menacing sneer and I cringed away from his flashing teeth, white as his skin.

"Please sit down, Mr. Evenson." I stumbled back and felt my bottle slip from my hand and crack on the floor. The strange man waved his hand toward the chair I had fallen against and mechanically I sat down. My shaking legs weren't going to hold me up much longer anyway. No sooner had I sat than the chair was pushed with surprising speed across the floor leaving four long loud scrapes across the floorboards. In the blink of an eye the man was back where he had been before, as if he had never moved. Only the slight ruffling of his blond hair told me he had really been behind me a moment ago. He couldn't be human the way he moved, soft so suddenly. I prayed I was dreaming, but to my horror and despite the buzz in my head the scene remained vividly clear.

"Now that we're comfortable," the man said though I was quite sure neither of us was comfortable, "to the business at hand. Your wife."

"My wife?" I asked in a shaky voice.

"Esme Platt Evenson."

"Y—yeah. I—I know who she is." I stuttered. That's when I recognized him. A face like his was hard to forget and Esme had been with me when we met. "I—I know you too. You're that doctor, the one that I took her to."

"Yes," the man replied, his tone unchanged. I relaxed a little. Doctors were supposed to take oaths against harming people right. That meant I was a little safer I reasoned but my heart was still pounding uncontrollably.

"Then we can forgo introductions and get to the point. I'm sure I don't have to remind you of why you brought your wife to my office that day."

"S-she tripped."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them because I saw his anger break free. The polite expression was gone in an instant and the sound that growled out of him was more terrifying than a hundred rabid dogs. At that moment I would throw myself to those dogs to get out of the room with him. I cowered in my chair, shaking and scared as I have ever been. _Is this God's retribution, is that it? Is this the devil come to claim me? Only the devil could wear such a kind face over such hate!_ I knew truly this creature hated me and I was utterly at his mercy.

"Do not," the man hissed, "lie to me, Mr. Evenson." He closed his eyes and very slowly his composure, the mask of civility, returned. It did little good. I knew what lurked underneath and I could hear the echoes of the terrifying growl in his next words.

"I may be a doctor but I have learned that there are many ways to inflict pain without causing _harm_ and you would be surprised how _much _pain a mind can endure without breaking."

I just swallowed and nodded.

"Now. What I require from you is very simple and you will do it because you value your own pitiful life, which I would take such great pleasure in ending. First you will sign both pages in front of you. Secondly you will appear in court when summoned and give a truthful account of your marriage. Thirdly you will never mention seeing me to anyone so long as you live because as terrified as you may be now there are worse fates awaiting you than I would grant you should you speak."

Looking into his eyes, yellow gold as the lamplight and bright in the darkness I believed him. I slowly looked down at the papers on the table before me. Each was crisp and white, printed in black with official titles and the state seal on the top. A pen was laid out for me and the necessary lines were marked in neat Xs. I glanced up at him but the strange man hadn't moved but for his eyes that followed me unblinkingly. I swallowed dryly and reached for the pen.

The papers disappeared from under my hands as soon as I had finished signing.

"Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Evenson. I hope there will not be the need of a further visit."

"No, sir," I whispered.

"Good." He packed the papers away in a briefcase and stood. He took a moment to dust off his pants and then reached over to turn off the light. I cringed, terrified to be in the dark with this demon. But he paused, eyes on the framed photo sitting beside the lamp. It was a photo of the wedding. Esme stood beside me in her white dress looking pretty as usual but neither of us was smiling. The light flicked out a second later and I jumped. But the demon was gone. I was alone in the house with only my broken bottle and the now empty frame sitting on the table exactly where it had been before to remind me of that night.

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

I hurried through the darkness back to my car after leaving Charles Evenson's house. I turned it on but didn't move for a long time, just sitting there and letting the stench of sweat, blood, alcohol and cigarettes slowly clear from my senses. I took deep breaths through my nose and tried to image all of the filth falling away from me. I shuddered. It had been surprisingly hard not to just kill the insolent man even knowing that I needed him alive for a while longer. Even thinking about him made me growl lowly in the confines of the car. How many more times would I have to drive away from Columbus knowing that the man who abused Esme—beautiful, kind, sweet Esme—still lived? I wondered. The images of her my imagination tormented me with flashed before my eyes. Her face, flushed with warm blood, hazel brown eyes sad—now swollen shut masses of purple bruises. Her lips, humanly imperfect, lopsided, slightly chapped—now split and bloodied, drooping. I turned away from those thoughts forcefully, focusing on my deep breathing, holding the image of her beautiful immortal face in my mind—even there her ruby eyes were accusing as they had never been in life. I had the papers, that was all that really mattered and Charles Evenson was scared enough that I believed he would show up in court. That was enough.

I heaved a sigh. Turning to my brief case I rifled through it for the large folder. I checked the sheet of paper already inside and added Charles's signed documents to it. I was about to put the case away when I saw Esme's file from the clinic and the thick letter that wedged it open. I paused.

I'd seen the letter before when I took Esme's file from clinic archives to find her address, the address that Charles still predictably lived at. But I'd been in such a rush, driven by my purpose I hadn't stopped to examine it more closely. Doctor patient correspondence was usually filed with their record. I didn't think much of it. Now I lifted the envelope, noting the smells of dust and car exhaust that clung to it.

It was small letter sized envelope with battered corners, slightly yellowed. The clinic address was printed on the front under my own name. Below that was a forwarding address written by the clinic staff to the bogus hospital where I had claimed to be going and a return to sender stamp. Flipping it over I noticed the letter had been opened, probably when it was returned to the clinic. A bit of fabric poked out of the ripped top of the envelope.

The white square of cloth turned out to he a handkerchief with the initials C. C. sewn into one corner. It was mine. I remembered suddenly the day I had first met Esme in Columbus. I had lent her my handkerchief and she had left behind her white glove. I had been so preoccupied that day I hadn't even noticed the theft was really an exchange. _She kept it? Why? _I wondered. _Did she… perhaps for the same reason I did? _I thought about the little white glove that I kept in the back of my desk drawer. I knew ever stitch and flaw of the fabric. The little blue button sewn on as a replacement had kept me lost in speculation for hours. In the long days after meeting her again in Ashland it had been a bittersweet reminder of her and a consolation. _Surely this square of cloth couldn't have meant so much to her,_ I told myself.

I pulled out the letter, expecting a short statement, something about returning the item but instead the page was dense with Esme's tight handwriting, shaking in places where her composure slipped and heavier where she wrote with force. Her smell, human and tantalizing clung to the paper, tinged with salt from the puckered circles where her tears had left marks. Desperately fighting my own hopes and dread, I read:

_._

_August 16, 1919_

_Dear Dr. Carlisle Cullen,_

_I think by now you must have forgotten me. I can imagine that in your line of work you see many women in a similar situation, of whom I am neither the least nor the most deserving of your pity. I think I am not deserving of it at all for two reasons. The first is that I have been luckier than others and I thank the wretched war for that. The past 13 months I have been blessed with the freedom of solitude and the hope that my husband might never set foot on American soil again. I dream that he has found a French woman to love as he never loved me and will forget entirely to return. When I am not so hopeful I dream that he does not survive the front. I do not know even if he has ever seen the fighting; not one letter has come since he was drafted. What a terrible person that makes me, to hope for my husband's death but I truly have and can't regret it. Such a woman does not deserve your pity, more so because you have already given me all I could ask for in simple kindnesses. I have clung to those in the worst of Charles's anger and the darkest days of my marriage. I imagine what my life would be if I had married you, how kind and loving you would be and how happy we would be together. Delusional as my dreams of you are, I fear what I might have become without them. Now I have to let them go. _

_Charles will return tomorrow. My treacherous heart clings to the hope that he will be changed by the experience - that all my pain will remain just a bad memory. But my mind knows the truth. Nothing will change, not across the ocean or here. I cling to your words even more these days. With distance I can see the truth in them. Charles's violence was never directed at me only taken out upon me. Now I am not sure I can live that way again or how long I will survive in it. I fear for my life. I cannot run with no money and nowhere to go. I cannot stay with nothing to hope for. Even my dreams of you are so impossible they will not sustain me. So I am giving them up. They are the last part of my life that I would cling to. Now when I die, I will go quietly._

_Do not mourn for me. I do not deserve that. You have nothing to feel guilty or sorrowful for. I am ready to die and I have lived happily this last year with my dreams of you, which have been the greatest gift of my life. Despite the brevity of our acquaintance I feel in my heart you were the best man I ever met and the only man that I could ever love. Silently and alone I have loved you and I will quietly die loving you. _

_Forever yours in life or death,_

_Esme_

_._

I couldn't breathe. _Why didn't I stay? _I asked myself. _Why wasn't I here to get this letter and to save her in time? Why wasn't I here?_ I put the letter aside with shaking hands. She had loved me then. I remembered her face, teary eyed and speechless, when I walked into her hospital room in Ashland. She had loved me then. I remembered finding her body in the morgue so broken and nearly unrecognizable under the blood. She had loved me then!

Could she love me still? I remembered her look the first time she woke up after the transformation and her bright red eyes locked onto my own. She'd recognized me through all the panic and confusion. I remembered her bright smile every day when I came home, looking up from a book, from the piano, from the window… I remembered her with dust in her hair and sleeves rolled up, with half of a chair rail in her hands smiling just to see me. I could still feel her hand in mine that day she'd sat beside me on the couch, comforting me, just listening. How many times had she done that since? A dozen or more time she had sat compassionately with me in unfailing patience. I remembered the way she held onto my arms walking through the park, discussing what we had lost and looking forward to the future. Could she still love me now?

_._

**Esme**

_._

I felt my still heart leap when I saw his car in the drive. I wanted to run as fast as my feet could carry me and resented having to move at human speeds. I cursed the long skirts I was wearing for my job at the school for twisting around my legs and the high-healed shoes that slowed me on the stairs. I pushed the door open, trying to be careful of how fragile it was but hardly caring because I needed to see him.

"Carlisle," I said breathlessly and my smile was involuntary. He was sitting in one of the armchairs beside the fireplace with his elbows on his knees and his head just lifted from his hands.

His answering smile eased away all the days of his absence and I felt like I could finally breath again.

"Esme," He stood up and he was at my side so fast it shocked me. I tensed up the half second before I found myself in his arms. I was too shocked to even react for another half second as my immortal brain struggled to understand what was happening but his arms didn't disappear like I expected them to. They were still strong and comfortable against my back. I relaxed, feeling his shoulders and his chest against mine. I lifted my own arms to wind around him loosely. I was scared that if I moved to fast or held to tight the moment would end, shattered into a million delicate pieces.

"You're home," I heard myself whisper. It was the only thought that got past my equal shock and joy.

"I'm so sorry," he said. His words caught me off guard.

"For what, Carlisle?" I wanted to see his face but I didn't want to let him go even an inch.

"For leaving." His words were laden with regret in a way I had never heard. How many ways did he have to feel guilty, I wondered. How could he know that the past few days have been so hard for me? Did Edward tell him how miserable I have been, looking out constantly for his car and worrying I had given some offense that kept him away?

"Carlisle, it's fine, really," I said, ashamed of my own pettiness, but he was shaking his head.

"No, Esme, for so long ago… in Columbus. I'm so sorry." He leaned back now and my arms felt cold without him. His hands found mine and for the first time I realized he was holding something. He pressed the soft object into my palm. I tore my eyes from his heavy gaze to look down at the square of white cloth and the familiar initials. It was one of his handkerchiefs. But this one had more than his scent on it. It had mine. Not my immortal scent but the scent that was almost mine but rich with warm, pumping blood. I knew what it was.

Foggy memories of the letter I had written and wrapped in this handkerchief years ago surfaced in my mind. _Oh no!_ I shook my head. It wasn't possible. He had already left the clinic when I sent that letter. He couldn't have gotten it. But how did he have the handkerchief.

"Esme, I'm so sorry I left when I did. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help you."

I just shook my head. _How could he apologize for that? It was a ridiculous fantasy. He wasn't responsible for me. He didn't owe me anything. _

"No, Carlisle."

"Esme, I knew," he said and there was so much pain in his voice I had to look up into his eyes. Once I did I couldn't look away. They were butterscotch and flecks of rose gold, fixed on mine unwaveringly. "I knew what he was doing and I left because I didn't trust myself not to harm one or both of you. I couldn't stay without… I wasn't strong enough when you needed me."

"You don't owe me that or this guilt," I whispered helplessly, gripping the cloth between my hands. "It was a fantasy, Carlisle," I said it aloud, finally. I had never been able to admit to the world in more than writing what I knew in my deluded heart; to have Carlisle love me as I did him was never more than a vapid dream. "You don't have to live up to my fantasy. I don't want you to feel obligated to return my feelings. Please don't… don't force yourself to do that." I couldn't bear to look into his eyes and see the relief I expected there.

"Obligated?" He asked breathlessly. I felt his hands, burning against my cheeks, cupping my face and lifting it to look at him. There was no relief only aching longing and disbelief in his eyes. "Never, I never felt…" He trailed off, at a loss of words. _Why else would he be apologizing? _I thought in confusion. Then every coherent thought fled my mind.

All I knew was him in every one of my senses. His smell filled my nose. I could taste it on my tongue. The low moan deep in his throat filled my ears and I felt in in my lips. I felt his hands on either side of my face lifting it to his and his soft smooth lips caressing mine, firm and needy. As suddenly as the kiss began it was over. Carlisle stepped back as if my skin burned him, gasping a deep breath of air.

"Forgive me," he said quickly, "that was too forward." I found myself short of breath and barely able to speak. My lips felt warm and ached to kiss him again. I shook my head and looked down at the floor. My moment of pure bliss was fading as I caught my breath and heavy resignation took its place. I knew this moment had to end and never be repeated.

"You didn't have to do that for me," I whispered.

"Esme, I didn't…. _I_ hardly know what came over me. Is that what you think I feel for you, a sense of obligation?" He asked me softly, disbelieving.

_Just nod,_ I thought to myself. _Just nod and all of this will be like it never happened. He'll be relieved but he'll let you me stay. If he will just let me stay, just let me see him every day, I can live with just that. All I have to do is nod and release him from this guilt. I have no right to expect any of this after everything he's given me. _But I couldn't make my head move even to look up at his face.

He reached out slowly and tentatively to my hand. "I have something else to return to you actually," he said softly and held out something to me. For a moment I thought it was another handkerchief. It was also white cloth but sewn into the shape of a small hand. A single blue button winked from the wrist.

"I meant to return this to you that last day in Columbus," he said, "but I knew as soon as you walked out of my office I would have to leave or I would end up doing something I would regret. I thought then it was to be the last time I would ever see you and I wanted something to remember you by."

_He wanted to remember me? _I tried to make sense of his words. _Why would he need my glove for that? It's a sentimental thing… why would he feel that way about…_ my head lifted and I looked up to his face driven by my masochistic curiosity. The aching longing in his eyes took my breath away. I scarcely dared to believe what he said to me next.

"Esme," he said my name reverently, like it was something precious, "I have loved you more with every hour I have known you. My love has exceeded all my own dreams of what I could feel long ago and grows still." His face was sad but his eyes were bright with a hope he was still clinging too. "If you no longer feel as you did for me when you wrote that letter, given all that I have done, I can understand that. If you ask of me, I will never speak of this again nor will I ever keep you here if you choose to leave. Your life is your own. Anything you want to start a new life is yours. I would give you everything I own willingly if it would make you happy. But no mater how you feel about me or where you are I will love you still."

I felt his grip slacken on my hand but I grabbed him tightly before he could pull away. _I don't want to forget and I don't want to go. I never want to leave you, _I was crying to him in my mind, but a lump in my throat trapped the words in my chest. I knew if I were still human I would be crying but instead I was simply struck mute, shaking my head dumbly and gripping his hand.

"It's the same," I managed to say, "I feel the same. In life or death, whether my heart beats or not, Carlisle, it is and always has been yours."

The sadness on his face melted away into shock. I felt a quivering smile starting on my face just as one started to pull at the corners of his mouth. Then he was grinning and I was smiling back at him widely. I felt light on my feet, as if the only force holding me down was his gaze. I saw his shoulder shake with his first quiet laugh but before I could laugh as well we were interrupted.

Footsteps on the stairs behind me made us both turn to the open front door where Edward appeared with his head in a book and a stack of thick volumes balanced under his other arm. He paused in the doorway, realizing that he'd walked obliviously into something. He looked from Carlisle to me and back with a vacant expression. Then like a flicked switch he gave a whoop and dropped the books.

"Ha ha!" He cried and dashed to my side, picking me clean up off the ground and spinning me around. "Finally! Finally." He cried and laughed. I was laughing too before I knew it.

_He loves me! _I thought to Edward. _Carlisle loves me! He's always loved me just as I have always loved him, wonderfully, magnificently, impossibly! All those times I was thinking of him, he was also thinking of me. Did you hear that from him before? Could you have…_

"You knew," I accused aloud.

"From the moment I met you!" He exclaimed. "I tried to tell you the very first day!"

"All those times you pestered me," Carlisle said with a groan.

"You're both so oblivious and damned shy," Edward said with a roll of his eyes. I glanced at Carlisle only to find him looking at me with the same expression of sheepish joy. There were new laugh lines, thin and faint, around his eyes. They made him look younger somehow and more beautiful than I had ever seen him.

"Alright," Edward groaned, "I get it. Here I go. I'll be back later… much later." He quickly gathered his fallen books. Half straightened from his task, he paused. "Oh," He said suddenly serious, eyes flickering to Carlisle's. I followed his gaze to see the beautiful laugh lines gone. Carlisle was tense and somber again.

"I see," Edward replied. "I don't know." He looked at me with pity and kindness before leaving the way he had come just moment before and turning around the side of the house.

"What was that?" I asked Carlisle.

"It's… it's the reason I went back to Columbus," he said with a heavy sigh. He motioned to the couch and I sat down there. He took his seat in the armchair again and passed me a large thin folder. He looked worried as he scrutinized my expression. His shoulders were tense and behind his worry I saw that repressed hard emotion he was hiding from me. I had a cold feeling in my stomach that I knew what was coming. "I went back to see your… husband."

I swallowed. I slowly took the folder with shaking hands and opened it. I slid out three sheets of legal paper. The first had a letterhead declaring it from the New York court system and was mostly blank. It began, "Statement of Esme Platt Evenson follows:" and ended with a judge's signature. The other two were stamped with the seal of the state of Ohio and were titled in bold gothic letters: _Separation Agreement_ and _Petition for Dissolution of Marriage._

_Charles will never sign this!_ I thought but as I pulled the paper free of the folder I saw his familiar scrawl across the bottom. I looked up at Carlisle in shock.

"You did this for me?" I asked, breathless again.

"It's a little thing, but it matters to you," he said softly.

"I—I don't know what to say." I looked back at the paper that represented all of my freedom. It was the knife to cut the last bond to the worst years of my human life. I could put it behind me and I would never be Esme Evenson again, nowhere. I could be Esme Anne Platt again. My marriage signified everything that had ever held me down or isolated me. It had taken me from my family, turned my mother against me, turned my family away from me, threatened my child and left me scarred, even if the physical scars didn't show on my new body. These few pieces of paper and lines of ink would cut me free.

"Thank you," I whispered. "This… it means more than I can say."

He reached out to cover my still shaking hand with his own and smiled at me, a small sad smile.

"You're welcome." He let me go and stood up saying, "I'll give you a minute if you want to fill those out."

I was torn between wanting to be alone to clear away the last of my past and not wanting him to leave. I was afraid that when he returned things would be as they were before. Somehow he saw all this in my eyes and he leaned down, one hand brushing over my hair, to press his lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes and let his smell fill my senses. I felt calmer just having him close.

His lips left a warm spot on my skin when he pulled away. I nodded to him and smiled at me before turning and leaving out the front door, following Edward. I looked back at the paper in my hand. I took a deep breath and picked up the pen from the table. For the last time I signed my name Esme Evenson.

* * *

Author's Note: I bet you thought I'd forgotten about the handkerchief. No, I didn't. I had a plan for it all along. Humf! Did you like it? Sappy enough? Too sickly sweet? Too OOC? I like speechless Carlisle, anything to mess with his all mighty self-control and otherworldly calm (insert snickering here). The poor bastard. *sigh* oh well. Hope you enjoyed. -Ember


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Answers

_._

**Esme**

_._

The verdict came within a month in a crisp white official envelope. I saw it Monday afternoon as I left for school and slipped it into my jacket. There it weighed down my slow walk to the schoolyard where the children were playing happily with loud whoops and cries. Mrs. Roan stood to one side of the playground with our resident trouble makers struggling against her grasp on their arms.

"Jenny, Jenny Marsh!" She yelled across the playground at another little girl. "What have I told you about swinging that rope!" Then she caught sight of me and the wealth of relief on her face drove all thoughts of the envelope from my mind. "Oh, Esme. I'm so glad you're here!"

"Can I help with these young gentlemen?" I asked with my kindest smile. "I'm sure we can come to an understanding." I eyed the two boys and they both stilled and looked down sheepishly. Sometimes being inhumanly beautiful had it's advantages.

Between children's squabbles, scrapped knees that I had to avoid (my cover included sever homophobia), a lost bracelet, spilled paint, and a multitude of questions as only children can ask I was quite busy for the rest of the day. Still in moments between bouts of chaos or the rare quiet minute when every child was busy with their work, heads bent over their desks, I remembered the envelope in the top drawer of my desk. Finally the day closed and the children were shuffled out toward their waiting parents. Mrs. Roan made her turns of the room, putting it back into order. I sat at my desk writing grades and words of encouragement on the children's work. As I put each page aside though my eyes would drift to the drawer handle.

"You look distracted today, Esme," Mrs. Roan said kindly as she came over sit at her own desk beside mine.

"Yes, a little," I admitted.

"Has something happened?" She asked and for a moment I was speechless. I had been working at the school for a month now, gradually becoming more confident about being around the children. I was practically frozen with terror the first week that I might hurt any one of them. But it was easier to control my burning thirst when I knew they were only children and I could see their bright faces. It helped that they shied away from my inhumanness, their instinct so much stronger than adults who were tempered with rationalism. Even as I was thankful for that it hurt. So I tried to be kind when I graded their papers, writing them little notes and thanking them for good behavior.

Mrs. Roan was glad for the help around the school. She'd been very patient with me and I learned a lot just from watching her. Often we would talk casually at the end of each day about the weather or the local gossip but never about our personal lives. I just assumed she wanted to maintain professionalism. I had been glad, after Edward explained the local curiosity about me, that Mrs. Roan didn't seem motivated by it. She didn't pry like I feared she would though I sometimes heard the mothers, picking up their children outside, out of human hearing range, discussing the latest speculations about me. So Mrs. Roan's question caught me completely off guard.

"It's just," she went on at my stunned silence, "you've seemed so happy the past few weeks. I thought something changed in you after your first few days. I always thought you looked a bit somber whenever I saw you, even before you interviewed for the job. It was nice to see you really smiling. You are so beautiful, especially when you smile. You should have every reason in the world to smile. I just… hope nothing had gone wrong." Her compassionate expression was a mixture of hope and pity.

"I—I have been happy," I admitted, "happier than I have been in a very long time. When I came to live with Carlisle and Edward I was coming out of a very… dark place."

"Yes, I thought it was something like that. You remind me a lot of myself."

"I do?" I asked her in confusion.

"It was the way you talked in your interview, promising to do your best and the way you looked at Mr. Lands," She said, referring to the principle of the school. "I used to act that way around my husband."

"I haven't heard you talk about him," I said honestly.

"Yes well, that's because he's in jail. Good riddance."

I gaped at her. She was so frank and concise about it. Catching my shocked look she went on.

"He was a violent husband and a cruel man. Smashed a bottle over a poor old barman's head. Killed him instantly. Can't say anyone was sorry to see him locked away, least of all me."

"I didn't know," I whispered.

"Of course not, that's old gossip and you don't listen to the gossip anyway. You're too kind for that, Esme. I'm glad you don't show the children out. The way those mothers talk."

I blushed invisibly knowing exactly what they said about me.

"They treat you well, these men you live with now?" Mrs. Roan asked me.

"Yes," I said, thinking of Carlisle's gentle kiss on my cheek as I left each morning and his arms lightly holding me against him when I returned home each evening. "Yes, they do. They have been kinder than I could expect. I know it's… unorthodox, our little family, but we truly are happy together. We were each all alone in the world before we found each other."

"Good." Mrs. Roan said with a nod of her head.

"And you? Are you alone now?" I asked. I knew she had no children of her own and I hated to think of her returning each day to an empty house. Was there a reason she would choose to stay that way? Maybe women like us just weren't meant to remarry after what we'd been through?

"No, I have a full life. It's not conventional but it's fulfilling."

"And…" I hesitated to ask, not sure I wanted to know the answer, "…do you ever think about remarrying?"

"I don't know if I could," She replied and I felt my still stone heart sink in my chest. "No, just that I don't think I could ever trust a man again. Why don't you leave the rest of those for me to finish tomorrow morning?" She said switching directions quickly. "I think we can both call it a day."

I glanced at the pile of papers left on my desk then at the drawer and the letter waiting there for me. I just nodded to her. She put a hand on my shoulder as we left. If she noticed it was cold and hard through my light jacket she said nothing.

"See you tomorrow, Esme," she said with a smile and I nodded.

"Thank you, Mrs. Roan," I replied.

"Betsy, please."

"Betsy," I agreed. I smiled as I descended the steps of the school building. It seemed I had made my first friend. Her words about marriage troubled me though and the letter in my pocket seemed to weight even more than it did when I arrived. I glanced at Betsy's back, farther down the street where had stopped to talk with an African woman. Two dark skinned children danced around her legs, one hugging Betsy's skirts.

"Mama did a good job with your braids, Molly," Betsy said to the girl.

"Aren't they pretty?" The little girl asked with a slight lisp of missing teeth.

"Yes, they are."

"Don't cling, Molly," the other woman said sternly, then her face softened as she looked at Betsy. "How was your day, Love?"

"Exhausting but rewarding as always," Betsy replied. "I'll be happy to get home."

I turned away, feeling suddenly like I was prying on something very private. No human would have been able to hear the words that they meant only for each other. I walked on but instead of turning toward home I went to the park where Carlisle and I would walk, finding a bench and sitting down to watch the light fading around me. I turned the letter over in my hands for a long time but I didn't open it.

_What will I do if the Court denies the petition? _I wondered. _How many years before I stop feeling like _his_ wife? _I wondered if Charles would always be a wall between me and my own freedom. Could I move on the way Betsy had and find new love without feeling guilty about the old? Would Betsy marry her lover if she could? Would I marry Carlisle? I turned these thoughts over in my mind. Finally night was falling and I was conspicuous where I was sitting in the darkened park. I wasn't scared to walk at night. The darkness didn't bother my sharp eyes and I knew there weren't many things scarier than me roaming the streets.

The house was empty when I got home. Carlisle and Edward were in class. I felt a stab of sudden disappointment. I had missed the embrace I had come to expect every day. I longed to see Carlisle as I always did when he was away, even for the few hours he spent in class. It seemed I missed him more now that we were so much closer. Nothing in our lives had changed substantially since the day he returned from Columbus. We still read together in the mornings but now I sat close enough to lean against him. We still listened to Edward play together but now we kept our hands clasped between us. We would still explore the spreading forests and the range of rocky lakeside beaches but we shared stolen kisses and private moments of laughter when Edward ran ahead or lingered behind. Loving Carlisle was easy, like breathing but more necessary than air was to me now.

It hit me rather suddenly as I stood in the cold empty living room of our house that I would never stop loving Carlisle no mater what the envelope I was turning in my hands said. Weather I was legally married to Charles Evenson or not I knew where my heart was. The law didn't matter more than that.

I ripped open the letter and read the verdict with little care for what it said. It didn't have any power over me anymore. I moved to the fireplace and set about arranging the wood we kept for show in the bin by the hearth. I lit a match and watched the logs slowly catch. I felt the warmth against my skin, warming me like fire never did when I was human. I had been warm too then. I was just watching the embers forming when the door flew open almost at the same time I heard footsteps on the porch.

I turned to see Carlisle's anxious face and his eyes searching out mine.

"Esme," he breathed my name and I smiled at him. He heaved a sigh of relief that moved his entire body. "I was worried for a moment that we had… unfriendly visitors."

"Oh," I gasped, realizing what the smell of smoke must have meant to him. "No. It's just a whim. It seems fitting." He crossed the room as I explained to my side and I held out the letter to him. His confusion melted into understanding and then a soft smile.

"The verdict," he said softly, his expression in controlled impartiality.

"Yes." I said and accepted it back. I glanced once more at the last line before I tossed it into the fire. I watched the thin sheet of paper catch and disintegrate almost as soon as it touched the burning embers. Carlisle's arm wrapped around my shoulders and his hand rested easily there, comforting but not demanding. Suddenly I wanted him to squeeze me, hold me close with all the desperation of that first kiss. I turned to look at him, staring at the flickers of light sporadically bouncing off his skin in refracted rainbows like sunlight.

I reached up one hand to turn his face to me. His eyes were questioning, waiting for me. He was always cautiously waiting for me, never pushing me too far or too fast. I was ready now. I pulled him down to meet his lips with mine. I ran my fingers through his hair and held him close, kissing him desperately. For a moment he kissed me back hesitantly. I felt his arms snaking around my waist and his hands beginning to shake against my back.

He moaned against my lips and I felt the sound as much as heard it all through my body down in my core, which was warm as the fire burning beside us. He held my hips and tried to lean away, push me back, fingers pressing the fabric of my dress into my skin. I didn't let him, couldn't. I held him tighter, hands sliding down his back and my mouth parting over his. I felt him relent, his shaking ceasing suddenly. He lifted me with sure and steady hands, spinning me around and I felt the shelves of bookcase beside the fireplace against my back. His taste filled my mouth as his lips parted to mine. His hands gripped my hips, holding me to him and against the bookcase. I knew with much more pressure they would snap or break but I wanted that, wanted to be closer to him.

His open mouthed kissed tore away from my lips and for a moment I was disappointed before they found my throat. I could no longer hold back the gasps of pleasure, as he worked up and down my neck with caresses and gentle nips of his sharp teeth. I had a moment of lucid thought that his lips had been there before and his bite had broken the skin there. I moaned helplessly and held him closer, one hand in his soft honey hair and the other on his back, feeling the muscles that gripped me to him moving under his skin.

The back door creaked and the floor gave a small short squeak. Those were the only warnings before Edward came bounding into the room, so fast he was nearly a blur even to me. The burst of air that he brought in his wake sent the fire roaring for a moment, throwing the whole room into bright light. I gasped in alarm. Carlisle jumped back from me and my feet fell a few inches to the floor. As soon as I had purchase I spun around, putting my back to Edward, hand over my mouth that I knew should be red and swollen from kissing.

"You two won't believe…" Edward started to explain what ever it was that sent him running inside but trailed off, registering the strange scene in front of him.

For Edward's sake I tried not to think about what I had just been doing but I could still feel the ghosts of Carlisle's hands and his lips, my body shivering from the electric aftershock of our passion. _Oh God!_ I thought wildly. _Why did I do that? _Even if I couldn't bring myself to regret it, I knew that it would have had to end soon. _I'm certainly not ready for where that was going. _The thought of what followed made my head dizzy with a strange mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

"Ughh!' Edward groaned and put his head in his hands. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"On all our parts," Carlisle said breathlessly.

"Right, I'm leaving. Come find me when…you're…" He gave up on words and just shook his head. As fast as he had appeared he was gone and the fire gave another leaping burst of life as the air in the room eddied and fed it.

Nether Carlisle or I moved for a long moment. I could hardly look at him and I knew if I still had blood it would all be in my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I said and found my words echoed almost at the same moment by his. Unthinkingly I turned and caught his eyes, just as wide with surprised as mine. We both fell quiet and looked away again.

"I—I'm not really sorry," I whispered, chancing a look at his face. He was looking at the floor sheepishly, worrying his lip.

"I can't say I am either," he agreed with a chuckle and glanced up to meet my gaze. He grinned at me, his shoulders relaxing. "I suppose we're understandably excitable."

"Yes," I replied with a nod. "I—I don't think I have ever been kissed like that." A moment after the admission his arms wrapped around me, gentle now, but my body still felt electrified by the contact. I felt his lips against my hairline pressed there firmly for a moment. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.

"That just makes me want to kiss you again," he admitted to me.

"I don't believe I would have the will to stop you."

"And I wouldn't want you to. But Edward is waiting and… it may not be the right time…"

"Yes, I know. We have no reason to rush." He let me go enough that I could look up into his eyes. He was smiling, thin laugh lines creased around his eyes.

"We have all the time in the world," he replied. He took my hand, smile never dropping and we left the little house. The fire gave one last burst of light and heat with the air caused by our departure, burning itself out and extinguishing.

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

I put down my book and Edward's hands over the keys of his piano paused when we heard the running footsteps through the driving rain, too fast for any human's. The door of the little house flew open seconds later and slammed shut. Esme stood dripping with her back against the door, her hair wild and falling in soaking locks from the pins that had held it up. She was stone still, not even breathing, eyes wide and pitch black from pupil to sclera with thirst.

"Oh no," Edward gasped and I jumped up without thinking. I was at her side in an instant and pulling her into the circle of my arms. I didn't know what I could protect her from but I had to try.

_What happened? _I thought to Edward, scared to ask Esme aloud. _Did she slip?_ I tried not to imagine. I tried not to see her wild eyes and her teeth closing over the neck of the driver. I tried not to remember her silent anguish.

Edward shook his head and I felt light headed with relief. Esme was still and quiet in my arms. I ran my hand over her wet hair and kissed her forehead.

"She ran all the way here from the school," Edward said and we both glanced out at the pouring rain that fell as heavy as fog on the city. Still there was a chance that someone had seen.

_Would you retrace her steps? _I asked Edward silently. _Scan nearby thoughts, look for anyone suspicious? _

He nodded to me and disappeared out the back door. I picked Esme up and she crumpled into my arms, limp but no longer rigid. I carried her without thinking into my room and sat down with her on the unused bed. I combed out her hair gently with my fingers, freeing it from the few pins that still held it in place and brushing water from her brow.

"I—I'm getting you all wet," she finally whispered. I could almost laugh with relief at hearing her voice.

"I don't care," I told her honestly.

"And your bed."

"I care even less for the bed."

"I'm sorry, Carlisle." She shook her head, rain water making tracks over her cheeks like tears.

"For what?" I asked her, worriedly. "What ever it is, I forgive you, Esme. What ever it is, I will always forgive you."

"I—I must have been seen. I ran all the way here. I didn't trust myself to stop or slow down. I had to—to see you because… I didn't trust myself. Until I saw you I didn't know that I wouldn't turn around and…." She trailed off and buried her face in my shoulder, wet hair sending droplets of water across the bedspread.

"Esme, even if you were seen the worst that can happen is that we have to move quickly. With the rain coming down like this it's possible you weren't seen. No one was hurt?"

"No, no… but I was so close to…" She murmured into my shoulder. Leaning back she took a deep breath and explained, her voice low and filled with shame. "I had just gotten the children settled down for the morning and Betsy was giving the math lesson when I heard them in the hall. It was Mr. Lands, I knew his voice, and two other adults. He was explaining where all the classrooms were and how well trained the teachers are. And there was a little child with them, I could hear his little heart beating. He was scared but curious and he wandered away from his parents down the hall toward our room. I caught his smell when he walked past the door." He voice became dry and raspy at just the memory and I repressed a shudder. I knew what was coming next. "It was like nothing else… no one else I have ever smelled. I _needed _it. Carlisle I _needed_ to kill that little boy more than I need air or life or even you. I _needed _his blood." She trailed off again and buried her face in my shoulders.

"And you resisted?" I asked, thoughtlessly, gaping.

"It was just a gust for a moment. Then I heard his parents calling him back and his little steps. I knew he would pass the door again and I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I held my breath and I made for the outside door. Betsy asked where I was going and I just apologized. I got outside and I ran, Carlisle. I ran. I knew if I didn't get home I would turn around and… and…"

"Esme!" I gasped at her in awe. But she heard something else in my voice and she flinched, tensed as if she expected some time of punishment or violence. Charles Evenson's face flashed before my eyes and I was suddenly speechless with rage. I hugged Esme close to my chest and squeezed my eyes shut. Rage wasn't what she needed right now. "Oh, Esme," I whispered into her hair.

"H-how could I want to do that to a little boy, he's just a little boy?" She asked me in horror.

"_La tua cantante,_" I whispered.

"What?" She leaned back to look at my face and finding no anger there she relaxed a little.

"It means, 'your singer,'" I explained. "It's what the Italians of our kind call the human who is… irresistible to you."

"This happens to all vampires?"

"No, not all. There's an element of chance I guess. Some go their whole lives without finding a singer, others meet multiples all over the world. The fact that you resisted at all," I said in awe, "is amazing. You're not even two and you turned and ran! That's… Esme you have nothing to be sorry for. What you did was amazing!"

She pondered this, her eyes, fading a little back to deep umber, searched my face for any hint of deception. I longed for the first time to have Edward's gift and know what was happening behind her eyes.

"Have you ever found one?" She asked me hesitantly.

"Two actually," I admitted, hoping distraction might calm her down a little more. "The first, and the sweetest, was in Voltera. I was nearly 170 then and I found it nearly impossible to resist. I was in a crowded market on a cloudy day just enjoying being around people and I caught the smell from somewhere behind me. I knew I couldn't even look to see where it was coming from. At the time I was staying with the Volturi. I haven't told you about them? Has Edward?"

"Yes, he said they enforce the law and that you lived with them for a time," She said nodding, intent on my story.

"Yes," I agreed with Edward's simplistic description. "One of them, Aro, found me to be a curiosity. He was perplexed that I would choose to live the way that I do. For a while he just observed but then he would find ways to subtly test my control. Over the years those ways got less subtle."

"He tempted you?"

"In every why he could think of but he wanted me to fail on my own, not by force or under threat. I knew if he got ahold of that human, he would win our little game at the cost of a human life. So I couldn't even turn around and see who it was I wanted so desperately to kill."

"Why not?" Esme asked in confusion. "Wouldn't it be better to know what they look like so you can avoid them without having to actually smell their blood?" She shivered in my arms, probably remembering the smell that had nearly overcome her just minutes ago.

"If I knew who it was then so would Aro. He has a gift like Edwards."

"He can read your mind?"

"Yes but not just what you think when he's near you. If Aro touches your skin he knows every thought you've ever had. That's what makes the Volturi such a force in our world. There is no way to lie to them or contest their rulings. Aro knows with a single touch every crime a vampire has committed.

"If I knew who my singer was then so would he the next time he shook my hand. So I ducked into an ally and I left the city for a month. When I finally returned and Aro learned I had such a weakness it was too late. He or she was long gone. Not even Demitri, their best tracker, could find my singer."

"Aro would really have killed someone just to make you… slip?"

"Yes, he kills humans for much less all the time. A few human lives were worth the fun of watching me make such efforts to resist. I actually owe him the lifestyle I have now. I would never have risked human lives to test the extent of my control. After two hundred years I was still unsure. Aro had no reservations and a couple thousand years of creativity."

"And Edward called him your friend!" Esme said in disgust. I laughed.

"He is, actually. As much as I disagree with him, Aro is one of the few people I can call my friend."

"After everything that he did to you?" She asked me in horror.

"I admit I was angry with him for a time, yes. But the more I began to trust my control, the more comfortable I could be in human society. It was in Italy that I first began to practice medicine not just study it. I found such joy in doing that and I had Aro to thank for it. I think in the end my gratitude annoyed him when he realized he couldn't dissuade me from my lifestyle."

"Is that why you left?"

"One of them." I nodded. I was happy to see that she was calmer now, relaxing into my arms instead of sitting in them. Her hair was dripping water down my chest and back but I didn't care. I leaned my cheek against the top of her head and breathed in her scent mixed with rain. The world seemed perfect in that moment, holding her with the sounds of the rain pounding all around us and drowning out most of the little noises that usually filled my ears. I felt like the rest of the world had just washed away and it was just the two of us.

"Who was the other?" She asked me, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"Your other singer? Who was it?" She asked. I felt a stab of nervousness looking down in her eyes and I hesitated to answer. Would it bother her? Would she think differently of me? I wondered.

"D-did you…" She asked, face becoming apologetic and compassionate, assuming the worst.

"No," I said quickly, "no and I'm very glad that I didn't." It was impossible to forget that when I had her in my arms this way. "It was you actually," I admitted.

"Me?" She asked incredulously and just nodded gravely, measuring her reaction. "Even when I was 16 and you fixed my leg?"

"Well, actually, I was distracted then."

She gave me a skeptical look. Having found her singer I was sure she didn't believe anything could be more distracting.

"I was quite put out with the nurse because I wasn't sure your leg was broken and she'd gone ahead and given you opiates. You haven't had a reason to come across them, but you'll know when you do. They are almost the foulest smell I have ever encountered. Even your blood, sweet as it was, couldn't over power that."

"So then when you met me in Columbus," She said.

"Yes, I could barely stand in the room with you much less touch you. I lied and told you I didn't have any bandages."

"I remember that." She said smiling. I relaxed a little, happy that I hadn't scared her away. "But you didn't seem bothered then, at least not that I noticed. I was still recovering from the shock of seeing you when I left your office. I hadn't believed you were real before that." I chucked but the mirth cut off quickly at her next words.

"Was that why you were so tense the second time I came to the clinic?"

I pressed my lips together firmly to keep from frowning and held very still so I wouldn't hold her closer out of protective instinct. She saw the change in me, how could she not?

"It wasn't my blood was it?" She asked. "It was Charles."

"Esme," I sighed and hugged her, tugging her head under my chin. "I loved you even then though I couldn't admit it to myself. I have never hated anyone so much as I detest that man. How I left Columbus that first time I don't know and the only reason I could restrain myself to go back…" I took a deep breath to calm myself down. "The only reason he is still alive is because he had to appear in court. I couldn't go back without a reason not to kill him because I don't trust my self when it comes to him."

"That's why you left," she said softly with satisfaction. "I always wondered if it was because of me."

"No, Esme, not because of you."

"Because of Charles? Because Charles was hurting me?" She leaned back to look at my face.

"Esme, I have regretted leaving you to that… monster every day since."

"But you would have regretted killing him too," She defended me. "You did the right thing." I could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. They knocked all the air out of my chest and I could only stare at her, aching for breath to speak for a few long moments.

"How can you say that?" I finally found the voice to ask.

"Because I would never want you to kill for me," Esme insisted. "It would hurt you too much and I don't ever, _ever_ want to be the thing causing you pain, not again."

"I don't… couldn't possible deserve you."

She just laughed at me and sat up straighter to kiss my lips, passionate but chastise.

"Of course you do," she said when she pulled away. "You love me too much not to."

"I love you more than I thought anyone could love anyone, much less me. After two and a half centuries I believed I was incapable of love."

"That's ridiculous," she said in her matter-of-fact way and I laughed. I kissed her cheeks, one then the other, and hugged her close again. For a while we were silent, just enjoying each other's company.

"How did you change me?" She asked, breaking the silence again.

"You mean how did I resist your blood and stop myself from killing you?"

"Yes. I couldn't even think of stopping when I…" She faltered and, to distract her from the bad memories, I started speaking immediately. If she had asked any other way I might not have had the courage to tell her at all.

"I thought you were dead. I loved you then and I couldn't bear the thought of a world without you. I had practically given up on life when I followed your scent to the morgue. Nothing mattered anymore, not even your blood. Smelling it meant you were dead and I couldn't stand that. When I heard your heart beating, even so softly and weakly, I acted without thought. I'd bitten you before I even knew what I was doing, not knowing if venom would even be able to heal _so much_ damage… the possibility though was something I could cling to when I felt like I was drowning or falling. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if it hadn't worked—if you had died in the worst pain anyone can endure—when I could have let you slip away quietly. But I had to try. It was the most selfish thing I have ever done, more so than changing Edward—a hundred times more! And I don't regret it. I never have and I never can."

She looked at me silently for a long time and worried that I had said too much. Her face was filled with awe and rapture. Her eyes fixed on mine, slightly wide, her brow smooth and her mouth slightly parted, jaw slack. If I had to put a word to it I would probably have called it devotion but it hardly made sense in context.

"Will you marry me?" She asked. If I had had a human, beating heart it would have stopped. She looked as startled as I was by the words. Her mouth moved silently for a few moment before she started speaking so fast and frantically I couldn't even think to stop her.

"Eventually, not…" She stammered, "I mean… I want to, someday. I love you. I have always loved you before I really knew why. I didn't believe you were real the first time I saw you. You were just a dream and I loved that dream more than Charles. I thought I could be a better wife if I didn't, if I gave you up, but I know now that it was never about me. Then when I met you in Columbus you reminded me that not everyone in the world is cold and cruel. Your words gave me the strength I needed to leave Charles. Your faith in me when we met in Ashland—you said I would make a good mother when I could hardly believe I _was_ a mother—it got me through that loss. Even after death you've shown me what freedom is, freedom that I never had in life. You've been saving me ever since I met you. I don't think I can ever repay you for that, but I will spend the rest of my life, how ever long it is, loving you and praying that it's enough.

"I know this is happening all wrong. I—I'm not even supposed to ask you, wet and disheveled and out of the blue to boot, but… I love you, Carlisle, and I'm ready to spend the rest of eternity with you." She looked into my eyes, sincerity in her face, worry in her trembling lip and hope in the raise of her brow. I took one deep breath, letting her words skink in. I jumped up, with Esme still in my arms and slid her back on the bed, sliding my hands down her arms to take hers. I knelt in front of her and somehow found my voice.

"Esme, you think I saved you but the truth is that you saved me. I was so lonely when I first met you and when you smiled, through pain and drugs and regardless of any rational instinct, you smiled at me, I didn't feel so lonely anymore. I felt closer to you than any human in fifty years. I was so lonely, and then there was you. I have left you so many times and every time I have regretted it. And then you come back into my life and remind me how good people can be, how much love and compassion there is in the world when all I see are the worst days of people's lives, the pain and suffering that they go through. And then there was you. I have failed you, failed to protect you, left you to be hurt by the people who were supposed to protect you, ran and hid from you when you were loneliest—lonely as I have ever been. Selfishly I took away humanity and soul and salvation from you because I couldn't find meaning in world without you. I am humbled every day that you can even stand the sight of me let alone feel anything more than resentment toward me—that you can find it in yourself to forgive me for what I've done.

"You have brightened my life in ways you can't know. Not just for me but for Edward, you have become more than we could ever had expected to both of us." I dug into my pocket for a moment, looking down away from her beautiful wide eyes. The little gold band gleamed in the light as I held it out to her, feeling her hands start to shake. "Esme Anne Platt, you would make me happier than I have words to express or imagination enough to conceive of if you would make me, unworthy as I am though I love you more than earth and life, your husband?"

I finally looked up into her wide eyes and she was nodding.

"Yes," she said with a choked sound half way between a sob and a laugh, "Yes, yes, yes!" She dropped to her knees in front of me and threw her arms around my neck laughing in earnest now. I laughed too, nervously at first and then it sank in and I was laughing in pure bliss. I held her, lifting her as I stood and spun her, sending water droplets through the air. She just kept laughing. I put her down though I didn't let her go, to kiss her, deeply and passionately.

"Carlisle?" Edward's voice interrupted us from the front of the house. Esme groaned against my lips.

"This has got to stop," she murmured, mouth only centimeters away from mine, her lips brushing against my chin and her scent wafting over my face. I moaned in agreement.

"I interrupted something again," Edward said from the doorway and I very reluctantly let Esme step away.

_Yes,_ I thought to Edward, _you did._ In explanation I remembered fondly Esme's face just moments ago and her emphatic agreement.

Edward's jaw dropped and he looked between us.

"I—I thought you'd wait at least a year, if not a decade!" He said to me. Then his gaze snapped to Esme. I had an idea of what she was showing him and his laughter that followed all but confirmed it. "Of course! Why didn't I see that coming?" He put his head in his hand and just laughed. "Alright, I'm leaving. I went back on Esme's rout twice and no one saw either of us. We're all safe. The new child at the school is named Ethan Hurst and his parents would rather send him to St. Andrews if they could afford it."

"We can arrange that," I said, thinking about how we might set up a scholarship and award it to the little boy as Edward left the room.

"That way you can keep your job and the child will be safe," I said to Esme. "St. Andrews is on the other side of town so you'll probably never see the child again. We'll be careful though, find out where he lives and goes so that we can avoid him."

"So I can avoid him," she said, a touch of shame still in her voice.

"None of us are perfect at this, Esme. You're still young and doing so well," I put a hand on her shoulder and she relaxed a little. I saw a new thought cross her mind and her face shifted into excited curiosity. She bit her lip and looked sidelong at me. Wet hair around her shoulders and long lashes dark with moisture, her beauty took my breath away. _And this woman just agreed-she _asked_ me to marry her,_ I thought with a note of disbelief.

"Where did you get the ring?" She asked me. I laughed a little nervously.

"I've had them actually." I fished the other one out of my pocket and passed both to her. One was larger than the other, each a simple gold band with tapered smoothed edges. The inside faces were delicately inscribed with a line of text small enough that a human might have needed a magnifying glass to read but our eyes could clearly make out.

"'_The day will dawn with greater light,'"_ Esme read off the first and then the second. _"'Those of your love are dearer there.' _What do they mean?" She asked me.

"They are lines from a poem." I turned to my desk and pulled out an old notebook, flipping through the pages. "An old vampire in England gave me this. She was a queer woman who couldn't make up her mind what to do or be. She spent some time writing poetry and gave me this when I left for America. It was one of the only things I had to read on the voyage. The passage was a lot longer back then." I finally found the right page and handed it over to her. She took the book delicately, careful of the old and cracking binding.

"'_For the reminisce of night  
_"_The day will dawn with greater light  
_"_And ghosts that follow in my wake  
_"_Shall at your sight but quiv'ring shake  
_"_And flee into their native lands  
_"_In my memory's darker bands  
_"_And with remembrance of despair  
_"_Those of your love are dearer there.'  
_"It's lovely and fitting." She smiled softly as she looked over the hand written poem scrawled on the page in irregular script.

"I'm glad you think so." I sighed with relief.

"When did you have the rings made though?"

"In Columbus, last time I was there. I didn't know if I would ever give it to you but… I wanted to have the option. That's the kind of thing I would have given you if we had met when I was human. I know it's old fashioned and women these days want jewels and flashier things. If you'd rather…"

"No, I think they're perfect." She assured me then smiled with a teasing gleam in her eyes. "Weren't you a man of God back then, I didn't think they were allowed to marry?"

"They were but I would have left the Church for you." I said, accepting the book back and putting it away. When I turned back to her she was smiling, looking down at the rings in her right hand, her left cradling the golden bangle she always wore, the gift from Edward and I.

"I guess I can't wear it yet," she said with a note of longing. She held them back out to me but before I accepted them I had another thought. Edward heard it and blew into the room a second later, snatching both rings out of Esme's hand before she could even gasp.

"I'm honored," he said with a cheeky grin. I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes at his showing off. "I'll return them as soon as you two set a date." He grinned and walked more sedately out of the room.

"What?" Esme asked looking at me.

"Edward is going to be my Best Man. He's taking up his official duties."

"Oh." She looked down at her empty hands and was quiet for a moment. I saw thoughts crossing behind her eyes but they were a mystery to me. I leaned back against the desk and beckoned her closer with a wave of my hand. She came happily into my embrace and even though we were the same temperature I felt warmer holding her.

"What are you thinking, love?" I asked her.

"I—well I mean there's no reason to rush but…"

"You don't want to wait?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head against my shoulder.

"Neither do I."

"Really?" She asked, leaning back to look into my eyes. Her beauty struck me breathless again, the way her hair was curling from the moisture drying and happy glow in her cheeks. I kissed her instead of answering, letting go of a little of the passion I kept in chains beside the monster. I held her tight, fingers pulling at the fabric of her dress almost hard enough to rip it and my lips parting to let her taste fill my mouth. Somewhere in the living room Edward dropped a book onto the floor with a loud bang. I let Esme go. We were both breathing hard, our lungs uncomfortable with the lack of air.

"Soon," I whispered.

"Soon," Esme nodded.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Guests

_._

**Edward**

_._

It was just a week after Carlisle and Esme's impromptu engagement when I heard the car roll up into our driveway. Esme came rushing out of the kitchen where she had been nervously working on her sewing projects. She was in the middle of making a quilt for her co-worker from some of the cloth left over from decorating the house. Carlisle put down his book and smiled at her patiently.

"Relax, Esme. They'll love you," he said. He stood and placed a quick kiss on the top of her head and a reassuring hand on her back. I stood in the doorway of my room and waited. I listened to our guests.

Tanya was excited to see me again. I had been quite young the first time she met and she was curious to know what I was like now that I was less wild. I flinched at seeing myself in her memory, temperamental with thirst and jumpy with my new sense of hearing. It had been a hard adjustment.

Irina was calm and resigned. She'd taken the news of Carlisle's engagement well considering she had hoped to persuade him to be her mate, at least temporarily. She was hoping that Esme would be too wonderful to compete with so she felt less personally wounded by the rejection. Childishly she wanted Esme to be detestable so she would feel less guilty for her unkind thoughts toward my mother.

Kate was hopeful as she had been when Carlisle introduced me to the Alaskan coven. She was happy for any new additions to our little family, even extended family. For so long she and her sisters had been the only ones they knew willing to live off animals and she resented the isolation even if she preferred the diet.

The last two minds that I touched were new to me.

"They're not alone," I told Carlisle. "They brought friends."

He looked puzzled and apprehensive and tightened his hold on Esme.

_You'll let me know if there's anything to worry about? _He asked me. I nodded.

The unfamiliar minds were calm and each, to my surprise, thought as often in Spanish as they did in English. As I'd found with other foreigners before, much of thought was not language based and I could get an understanding of the meaning even if some of the words were unknown to me. Usually it was easier if the person knew some English and it seemed these two were fluent in both languages.

The male was calm and composed. He was interested to meet others of our kind and mostly curious about Carlisle though I couldn't quite understand why from his thoughts.

The woman was excited. She had enjoyed the drive through Canada, the vast wildernesses, the stunning natural formations and the beautiful landscapes that they had seen. She was comparing it in her mind to what she had seen of Europe. She was distracted as the group got out of the car but our little house. _How pintoresco!_ She thought, in love with the place at first glance. Esme had artfully painted parts of the trim alternatively a sedate tan and bright white to accent shapes in the house's architecture. I had never noticed but this Spanish woman appreciated every detail. Through her eyes I gained a new appreciation for Esme.

Tanya knocked on the door, politely and waited for me to open it. I knew Carlisle wasn't anxious to leave Esme's side with strangers arriving and I was happy to put myself between them and my mother even if their thoughts were not hostile.

"Edward," Tanya said happily, noting my changed demeanor. "It's good to see you."

"And you Tanya, Kate, Irina," I said, greeting each as they entered. I saw through my mothers eyes what they looked like in their stylish fur lined jackets. The three tall, blond Russian sisters looked like models stepping out of a magazine to her, in their stylish clothes. She felt small and common in their presence but I was proud to see she kept this off her face.

Each of the three sisters looked my mother down in turn. Tanya noted the way Carlisle was standing beside her protectively and how she was turned toward him. She was relieved to see Esme's innocent air. Tanya knew what had passed between Aro and my father and she had always worried after that his kindness and forgiving nature would let him be manipulated. Esme disarmed all those fears with her tentative, self-conscious smiles.

Kate saw Esme's smile and returned it in her own cautious way. She noted Esme's conservative dress and the light colored cheerful pattern. _She looks so sweet and motherly,_ Kate thought, _but then again Carlisle always had a paternal nature even if we are three times as old as he is. I guess she's well suited to him then but I will have to take her shopping eventually. _Kate was thus decided that Esme would be her friend.

Irina, half expecting an angel incarnate, was caught off guard by Esme. My small, dark haired, common looking (among vampires) mother was not what she pictured. She saw my mother in the house decorated to reflect the style of her clothes and hair: homey. Irina saw in a moment that she'd never had a chance with Carlisle because she'd never been what he wanted. It still hurt and her thoughts were not as warm as her sister's towards my mother but she was eased a little by the knowledge.

"It's good to see you again," Carlisle said, kissing the back of Tanya's hand with his gentlemanly smile. "Might I introduce my betrothed, Esme. These are the Denali sisters."

"It's wonderful to meet you," Tanya said.

"Welcome," Kate said, taking Esme's hand and giving a brief smile and her hand a soft squeeze. I heard Esme note the effort that Kate seemed to be giving, realizing very astutely that Kate was not one to show off her emotions.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you," Irina said with a brilliant smile that revealed none of her inhibitions.

"Thank you," Esme said with an equal smile. _So this is Irina,_ I heard her thinking with an internal sigh of jealousy. _How do I compete with this? Maybe I should get Carlisle's eyes checked._ I held back a chuckle at her little joke. It was harder when she met my eyes and I knew it had been just for me. I felt a surge of gratitude for having her in my life.

The Spanish couple—because they were clearly a mated pair—was waiting politely on the porch to be invited in. The male had his arm around his mate much like Carlisle was standing beside Esme. I heard in his thoughts how careful he was about encroaching on another vampire's territory. We were territorial creatures after all. He was also focused on me.

_What a rare and powerful gift. To be so attuned to those around him, he must have been something special even as a human._ _I wonder how specific his perception of thoughts is, _he thought, his gaze meeting mine. I was surprised to find that his eyes, and his mates, were gold like ours.

"Carlisle," Tanya said, glancing outside to the waiting couple, "we hope you don't mind but we had guests with us when your letter arrived. They were interested in trying our lifestyle and we've been enjoying their company for the past six months."

I stepped back from the door more than I had for Tanya's family and motioned for the strangers to come inside.

"This Eleazar and his mate, Carmen," Tanya introduced them. I caught the flare of recognition in Carlisle's mind and the male's face, Eleazar's face flashed in his memory, but with crimson irises where now were gold. He was cautious thought because of who accompanied Eleazar in his memory. I knew Aro's face from other less pleasant memories my father had accidentally shared with me.

"We've met before actually," Eleazar said and held out a hand to Carlisle.

"Yes, in Voltera," my father shook the offered hand nonetheless.

"Like you I tired of Aro's company but not quite as quickly. Then again he never showed so much interest in me as he did in you," Eleazar said, revealing that he knew of more than just my father's passing visit to Voltera.

"I don't believe you had a mate when last we met," Carlisle said, shifting the subject.

"No, I met Carmen some time after you left and it became apparent that I loved her more than I did my work in Italy. We came to America to find a new life for ourselves."

"This life suits us well," Carmen said, speaking up for herself. "I'm surprised that more of our kind have not seen the benefits. It's an honor to meet you after everything that Eleazar has told me about you."

"The pleasure is mine," Carlisle said. "This is Esme and my son, Edward." I caught the metal raised eyebrow that Carmen and Eleazar had to the relation Carlisle gave me to him.

"Yes," Eleazar said, "the sisters told me about him and his gift but I hardly believed it until I saw it."

"You saw it?" Carlisle asked. _What did he see? Edward has been very inconspicuous._ I answered for Eleazar. If they knew of my talent there was no reason not to show off a little.

"He sees the gifts of others, vampires and humans before they are changed. That's why Aro had you introduced. He wanted to see if you had any particular talent that made you so resistant to human blood."

Carlisle raised an eyebrow. _I had thought that might be a possibility but Aro never mentioned anything to me. _

"I didn't see anything. I can only conclude that your commendable self control is all your own," Eleazar said with a smile. I could see through his mind the way he saw talents in others. To him they appeared like an aura around a person. I had my own 'color' that seeped out around me. Kate's 'color' was close to her skin and fizzed where my was stagnant but responsive to every passing mind. Irina, Tanya, Carlisle, Carmen and Esme each had their own auras, though they were subtler and harder to distinguish. I did notice that there was a similar quality in my parents' auras. I wondered what that meant but Eleazar had no more idea than I did.

"Is it too much to assume you decorated the house?" Carmen asked, pulling me out of my examination of Eleazar's mind. She was speaking to Esme.

"Yes, I did. I wasn't quite ready to be out in society when we first moved, and I like to make myself useful as much as I can."

"It's beautiful," Carmen said with a sigh. "I've never truly had a home to decorate and I'm sure I wouldn't have the patience but I do love what you've done here."

"Thank you." Esme said, glowing under the praise. Seeing our home through Carmen's eyes made me realize how much I had taken Esme's touch on the house for granted.

"Well you are both welcome in our home," Carlisle said to the Spanish couple, "though with so many guests it feels rather small."

"It's a good thing we don't sleep," Kate said with a smirk and everyone chuckled. I shut the door with a small smile on my face. It seemed that Esme would fit herself effortlessly into our family after all.

_._

**Esme**

_._

As soon as the house was out of earshot (vampire earshot) Tanya practically turned on me, her eyes alight with the released curiosity that I had seen bottled up in her since they had arrived. Somehow I had been coerced into this shopping trip to Albany even though I suspected the real purpose. I was still glad Edward had slipped me a little written warning of what was coming. It was still crumpled up in my pocket and as I prepared for the onslaught I remembered what it said:

_Mom, Tanya has a million prying questions almost all of which are inappropriate. Kate just wants to know if both of you are happy. Irina is trying to like you, really. –Edward._

"So, how did you meet Carlisle?" Tanya asked. "Did you sweep him off his sensibly shoed feet?"

"Tanya!" Kata scolded from the driver's seat. Irina looked back at me with a guarded look from the passenger seat then turned to look at the road.

"Oh, hush," Tanya said with a wave of her hand toward the front of the car. "I want to know the details! He's been a bachelor for two centuries. I want to know what changed his mind."

"Looking for tips?" Kata asked.

"No, what could he teach me? Let me guess," Tanya said, turning back to me, I sent Kata thankful look in the rearview mirror, "he's a terrible kisser."

I was very glad that they couldn't see me blushing or the way my heart was pounding. Carlisle had found a moment last night in the forest as we hunted to hold me in the shadow of a large oak and kiss me senseless. The moment he moaned my name replayed in my mind and I shivered with pleasure. That Tanya noticed.

"I knew it!" She said, mistaking pleasure for horror.

"No! That's not what I meant at all!" I jumped to Carlisle's defense. "He's…wonderful and so kind and gentle with me even when I know he wants more than I can give him." I sighed, speechless to describe the warm feeling that made my chest tight with longing.

"Oh, Carlisle, you bad bad boy," Tanya scolded playfully at my absent fiancé. I realized I had been tricked and put my head in my hands, mortified.

"Tanya!" Kate groaned from the front seat.

"What? It's just healthy curiosity. So who kissed who?"

"You sound like you're 15," Kate shot back. Tanya just stuck her tongue out at her sister. I wondered if these three really were 800 years old.

"So?" Tanya asked me.

"He…" I tried to say but the words trailed off.

"Really! I didn't think he'd have the audacity. Did he ask permission first like a proper gentlemen?"

"He…well, no… he just didn't know what to say." I tried to explain.

"Carlisle speechless? I find that hard to believe."

From the front I heard Irina snort in amusement.

"What was that Irina?" Kata asked.

"Nothing."

"Oh come on," Tanya pleaded. "It's just us girls here."

"I've seen Carlisle speechless. It's a little pathetic actually. He just stands there with his mouth open."

"A little yes," I admitted, fondly remembering how his shocked speechless expression when I had first told him my heart was his. I loved how my immortal memory recorded all the minute changes as his sadness faded away and joy took its place.

"I bet you could shock him speechless on command," Tanya said with a scheming smirk. I took note to look out for whatever it was she was planning. "Now, more importantly, how did he ask?"

"Ask?"

"Ask you to _marry_ him?"

"Oh."

"Was it romantic?" Tanya asked. "He seems like the kind of person that would go way over the top if he was going to do it."

"Well… not really," I said and then I thought about it. Carlisle had gone to Columbus, lied, stolen, coerced, faced Charles, restrained his overwhelming anger, and succeeded just to get me out of my previous marriage. That was a fairly over the top way of saying 'leave your husband and marry me instead.' "I mean he did do something rather… bold." I said realizing that Tanya was still watching me.

"Well… What?" She asked, eyes bright. I realized that I was probably the biggest source of gossip she'd had in a very long time, longer than I had been alive. I supposed I could give her some details.

"He… helped me get a divorce." That shocked the car into silence. Kate even slowed down from the most likely illegal speed she was going. Tanya just stared at me.

"Who were you married to?" Kate asked, worry concealed in her voice.

"A man, a human, in Columbus before Carlisle changed me. We were never happy so about two years ago I left him. I went to Ashland and that's where Carlisle found and changed me."

"_He_ changed you?" Irina asked in shock, turning to look at me.

"Well… yes." I sighed, not knowing what else to say.

"Carlisle spent years alone refusing to change anyone. He only changed Edward because the boy was dying." Tanya said seriously. "We tried to convince him to find some companionship for years."

"Was he very different?" I asked them. "Before Edward and I, what was he like?"

"He was… colder," Tanya said and I scrunched up my nose trying to equate the word cold with Carlisle.

"We didn't see him much but it seemed he was happiest when he was going to work," Kate supplied.

"But he did visit," Irina put it, "even though it took him away from his work. He missed real company, I mean our kind, who know what he is."

"He did live in Alaska with us for a short time but he missed the human contact. We're very secluded up north," Tanya said. "Always having been together it's hard for us to imagine what his kind of life would even be like, to be isolated, lying to everyone."

"I think I can," I said remembering my days in Ashland and the effort I put into my work at the local school because it was the only place I felt connected to people even if those people knew nothing about me, who I really was.

"Are you happy with him?" Kate asked. I smiled at her in the rear view mirror.

"Yes, I am."

"Good," she said. "He seems happy too."

Irina gave me a quizzical look then turned away again, back toward the road.

"So," Tanya asked with forced restraint, "did he ask before or after the divorce went through."

"Actually. I asked him." Again the car was shocked into silence and Irina and Kate both spun in their seats to look at me. A blaring car horn had Kate swerving back into her own lane and muttering in what sounded like Russian.

"You asked _him?_" Tanya repeated my words.

"And he said yes?" Irina asked.

"Well… he had the rings so I ended up saying yes to him," I supplied. I knew then I would have to recount most of the story, the parts that mattered at least. I sighed and realized why they had chosen somewhere as far away as Albany for this shopping trip. It was going to be a long drive.

_._

Tanya

_._

"I really think this is too much," Esme said, holding up the pale gold silk and chiffon dress decorated with sky blue and deep ultramarine beading.

"Then think of it as a wedding present," I whispered behind her. I caught Irina's frown and Kate rolling her eyes from where they were unpacking their purchases on the bed. I turned back to my small pile of wrapped boxes. It had been a nice day in town shopping with Esme. She really was a sweet girl if a bit young for Carlisle. She had born my admittedly prying questions with good humor. I knew there were details she wasn't giving me, private ones, but as infuriating as that was, it was comforting to know that she would protect Carlisle's privacy. It had been a treat to introduce our soon-to-be-cousin to the world of department store fashion. Kate had been shocked to hear that little country Esme had never even been _in_ a department store though she only balked at the highest priced items. The gold and blue dress was one such item but it was going to be worth every penny. I smirked at my little plan coming into fruition. The door to the little back room of the house opened and Carmen breezed in.

"The men are on their way back," she said, flicking her long dark locks over her shoulder. "Are you going to give them a little fashion show?"

"You know how I love offending Eleazar's delicate sensitivities," Kate said with a smirk.

"For you," Irina said, passing a thin box to Carmen.

"You bought me something?"

"We do know your measurements," I said with a wink.

"Something to offend certain 'sensitivities'?" She asked slyly with a laugh.

"I can only think of what we were wearing at the last turn of the century," Irina replied with a shake of her head, examining a pair of shoes she'd bought. "Some of those dresses would put modern 'impropriety' to shame."

"Anything to get out of corsets!" Carmen said with a moan. "I would cut my hair if it really meant I'd never have to wear one of those things again." She opened the box carefully and then laughed at what she pulled out. It flowed over her fingers and rolled like liquid from the box on the desk, simmering in the morning light from the window, bright red as fresh blood. The wide straight neckline and low hem were heavily beaded and the drop waist cinched the fabric just enough to give the dress shape.

"What a lovely color," Carmen said ruefully. Kate smiled and shrugged. Esme just gaped at the extravagant and slightly inappropriate dress. I caught her look and shared a glace with Irina. We both had to cover our mouths from laughing.

"I think I have a pair of shoes that will match it at home," I told her with a chuckle.

"Oh thank you," Carmen said with a roll of her eyes and moved to put the dress away.

"You're not going to show Eleazar?" I asked her, feigning shock and hurt. "We've all got something to show off. We wouldn't want you to feel left out."

"Well I can't show off the wedding dress yet so Carmen and I can sit this out," Esme said, putting the lid back over the gold dress. _Nice try,_ I thought to her and caught her hands.

"What do you mean? You can wear this dress."

"But… it's not at all appropriate for…"

"Nonsense!" I cut her off. "We're just doing a little show. You'll find a reason to wear it again eventually I'm sure but why not show it off now?" I already had the box open again.

"But…"

"But what? I'm sure Carlisle will enjoy seeing it."

"I don't know…"

"Come on," I said. "I'll wear the silver dress I got. If anyone's going to have cause for censure I'm sure it will be me." _I wonder what Edward will think of it?_ I thought pulling out the short little silver dress I'd bought.

"Do you need help changing?" I asked Esme when I saw her just standing, staring at the dress in its box.

"No," she said very quickly and picked up the dress. I tried unsuccessfully to hide my triumphant smirk. Kate, who had already shimmied into her fur lined cream dinner gown, threw me a look. I ignored her as I had all of yesterday.

By the time we heard the front door open and three sets of footsteps over the threshold each of us was dressed and focused on pinning up Carmen's hair. Kate enjoyed this because she was always envious of Carmen,'s Irinia's, and my curls. Esme was just happy not to be the center of attention.

"The more you pin the more I want to get the scissors and just sheer it all off!" Carmen cried.

"Oh! You'd make your mate so sad!" I teased her.

"He'll get over it," She grumbled with a growl. Kate growled back playfully.

"What is going on in there?" Carlisle asked in the front room.

"I've learned to leave women to their own affairs," Eleazar replied.

"We'll be out momentarily," I said, loud enough for them to hear through the small house. "Sit down and make yourselves comfortable." _This is going to be interesting,_ I thought, shooing Carmen and Irina ahead of me out of the room. Esme paused at her own reflection in the long mirror and cringed.

"What would my father say," I heard her breath the words so softly only Kate and I who were still in the room heard her.

"I'm sure he would think you look lovely," I told her.

"I don't think he'd even recognize me, _I _don't recognize me!" She muttered. Kate put a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder.

"Someone used to tell me, 'it's not the dress that makes the woman—it's how she wears it.'" She said with a serious expression but mirth in her eyes.

"Alright," Esme murmured and let me lead her out by the wrist in time to see Irina rounding the dining table into the living room, her dress swaying seductively with every graceful movement of her hips and the flared bottom swirling around her knees.

"A successful trip then," I heard Eleazar comment, disinterestedly.

"See for yourself," Irina taunted and dragged Carmen out with her. I could just picture Carmen's glare. It really was fun to have a couple around to tease, or at least a man around to tease. I'd be sad to see them go but there was still possibility they'd stick around permanently.

"That's… a nice color," I heard Carlisle say in his diplomatic fashion. Eleazar's face was what I expected when I walked around the corner: wide eyed and mouth slightly agape. He shifted uncomfortably and I could swear that he cleared his throat.

"Th-that's quite a dress, who picked that out?" he asked, voice a bit higher than usual. Carmen glared at Irina.

"We saw it and thought of Carmen. It was a such a deal it seemed too good to pass up," Irina said with a smirk. I saw Edward roll his eyes, he at least knew she was lying.

"I think it looks good with your hair," Kate said as we walked in. I watched Edward's face as he took in our little group, eyes lingering only a second on Kate and I before finding Esme, standing half behind my shoulder. _We did dress her to grab attention_, I reasoned to myself but I was still disappointed. I mentally shrugged off his lack of attention to focus on Carlisle's reaction.

"I think Esme has the best find," I said and urged her out in front of me. "They had new dresses come up from New York based on the latest fashions in Paris." Esme's dress was just covering her knees and hung from thin shoulder straps with a plunging neckline. The low waist was barely more than a seam and a row of beads on the front. I took one of her hands and lifting it up, spun her around fast enough to surprise her, even turn her into a blur to human eyes but, we could see every twist of the light fabric as the beaded bottom lifted up with her sin. Best of all was the back of the dress which was open in a long V to the waistline where deeper gold fabric was pleated into the back from then on in an narrow angular hourglass shape.

Carlisle's face shifted from wide eyed surprise to absolute shock to that speechless expression I'd never had the pleasure of seeing. His mouth didn't gape the way Eleazar's did but was just slightly parted, not slack but undecided. He stopped blinking and breathing though his eyes darted from Esme to the dress to me to my sisters to Edward then back to Esme where they remained transfixed by her.

"What do you think, Carlisle?" I asked him specifically. For a moment I didn't think he'd heard me. Then he swallowed and licked his lips quickly. He opened his mouth, clearly forming a word then stopped and started to form another. I quickly shut my own mouth to keep from laughing. He did this three times and every time the urge became harder to resist.

"Who picked out this dress?" Edward asked, saving his father.

_Why ruin my fun?_ I asked him with my thoughts and he rolled his eyes at me with a beautiful crooked smile.

"I think Kate saw it first," I said.

"I didn't say anything about it," Kate piped up.

"If I remember correctly," Irina said with a fake expression of thoughtfulness, "wasn't it you, Tanya, who told Esme to try it on?"

"That's right," Kate said with a conspiratorial smile, "she did and I think Tanya _bought _the dress too!"

_Traitors,_ I glared at them sidelong and they sniggered.

"I really think it is too much," Esme replied.

"Nonsense! And you can't be thinking of driving all that way just to return it," I said quickly.

"I-It is a nice dress," Carlisle finally found his voice and everyone turned to stare at him. I could hardly hold back my laughter now at the way he squirmed under the sudden scrutiny. Esme recovered first from our collective shock.

"Well then I guess if it's a wedding present I'll keep it," she whispered. "L-like you said, I'll find somewhere to wear it."

"I'm sure you will," I told her, tearing my eyes from Carlisle and just catching Edward's slightly mortified expression before he turned away. _It looks like Esme is going to be in for a few pleasant surprises with this one,_ I thought as we went back into the little back room to change. I threw one last look over my shoulder to see Carlisle glance up from his book at Esme's retreating back and the long stretch of exposed skin. His eyes were dark and his expression longing.

_I suppose I see what all the rush is about. _As soon as the thought crossed my mind I looked over at Edward, who was standing by one of the bookshelves and he met my gaze. I smirked to know I was right but also to know he was listening to my thoughts. Maybe he did pay more attention to me than I thought.

_._

**Edward**

_._

It was enjoyable to have company around even if it made the small house very loud for me. I had grown accustomed to the voices of my parents and I was getting better at tuning out the duller human voices of the city around us. The sudden influx of clearer Vampire minds were a whole new set of problems for me. Most noticeably was Tanya and her growing interests in me. I hadn't been trying to pay attention to them but it was hard not to turn my head every time she thought my name. Then there was Irina's less decided mind. She wavered over the week that the Alaskan coven was with us about what to think of Esme. On the one hand she was predisposed to dislike the small dark haired woman who she thought was very common and rather boring. On the other hand Esme was unfailingly kind to everyone and try as Irina did not to notice she was confronted over and over by the face that Esme was the most human vampire she'd ever met. It was hard _not_ to like my mother.

Eleazar and Carmen who outwardly were perfect guests were actually the hardest adjustment. They were happy to go farther afield with us to hunt to avoid attention and remain inconspicuous while in town. Eleazar was a better partner for Carlisle's philosophical debates than I was and Carmen was interested in my music and in teaching me some of her own repertoire. The trying part about their visit was their thoughts concerning each other. Despite whatever Tanya or her sisters thought, Eleazar was not as prudish in private as he was in the company of others and certainly not prudish in his thoughts.

Eleazar was sitting with me in the shade of a trellis Esme had erected at the back of the house reading, or pretending to, while the five women were sitting, just out of earshot, on a spread blanket at the edge of the woods having a 'picnic'. We were all enjoying the break in the rain that had been falling almost constantly for three days even if that meant risking the occasional sunny breaks in the cloud cover. Eleazar was enjoying seeing Carmen in a sundress after so much time bundled in unnecessary jackets in wintery Alaska.

"You know I can hear you," I growled finally and he jumped a little.

_Oh! I completely forgot. I'm sorry,_ he thought, embarrassed.

"I hear much worse from my classmates every day," I said, trying to put him at ease, "I swear I don't try to hear what you're thinking. Actually I wish I could turn it off sometimes."

_It is a little strange that you can't. Even Aro can restrain his ability when he doesn't want to know everything some thinks, though he rarely does. _Eleazar thought.

"It gets tiresome," I said nodding. "I've tried, a lot."

Quickly he ran through a few different techniques he knew worked with other gifts amoung the Volturi guard and other European coven's he'd encountered.

"Thank you," I said quickly filing away the new information for a later date.

_I hope of those helps, _he replied. Of everyone, he had adjusted to my silent method of communication best. _I truly do or your parents will be difficult people to live with._

"They already are," I groaned. "I thought it would be better when they stopped dancing around each other like blind children."

_What do you mean?_

"They spent months completely oblivious that they loved each other and me in the middle sworn to secrecy."

_Truly? How strange. The day I met Carmen I was almost certain I wouldn't be able to face life if I couldn't see her again. The first moment we talked I felt she saw me the same. I wonder if Carlisle and Esme are really as close as I am to Carmen? Oh! I'm sorry, Edward. I don't mean to question your parents' commitment to each other. I realize that could be considered rude. _

"No, I can't blame you for your thoughts. You're wrong though." I said looking out to where my mother was playing a checkers with Carmen. "It wasn't that my parents haven't always loved each other that way, the way you and Carmen do, but that they both thought they weren't good enough for the other. Carmen is a lot more sure of herself than Esme and despite the way Carlisle acts, he has his own self-doubt as well."

_He hides them well._

"I think it comes with being a doctor. They often pretend like they understand the illnesses they're treated more than they really do."

_Why?_

"A less worried patient will get better faster. It's a kind of placebo treatment. People who think they should get better tend to do better than those who expect to stay sick or die."

_Humans,_ he thought with distain. I chuckled.

"It does sound ridiculous but Carlisle's seen it work."

_Hmm,_ Eleazar considered this information but his thoughts strayed back to Carmen as they inevitably always did. He considered how quickly they had found each other. He was almost a hundred years younger than Carlisle and Carmen had been changed less than half a century after him. They had met in the early 1800s. Carlisle had lived for much longer alone. The sisters had been wandering for nearly 800 years already and still searched for mates. He wondered vaguely if I would take of them as my mate. He had noticed Tanya's interest.

"No," I snorted and shook my head. "That not very likely."

_You're still young,_ Eleazar shrugged, _and they are beautiful women. You could take some time to get to know them better._

"I don't usually need very long to get to know someone."

_Oh yes. That would make an intimate relationship more… interesting._ He was surprisingly not thinking of the advantages in private but of the lack of privacy. _It would be hard to give up literally all privacy to one person, even your mate. Aro learned to turn off his ability specifically to afford his mate some privacy._

"It's really worse than that. When I first woke up in this life I knew what I had become because I could hear Carlisle thinking it. I knew what he thought of Vampires and it wasn't very optimistic at the time. I knew all his doubts and worries. Inadvertently he told me his worst secrets simply by trying _not_ to think about them. Have you ever tried to _not_ think about something?"

_I suppose it's like trying not to think about your thirst, _Eleazar mused. He was remembering his first days adjusting to the new diet. _By consciously choosing something not to think about you have to acknowledge what that thing is._

"Exactly. So anyone close to me can't even decide what to keep from me. By doing that, they've already told me what it is."

_That's a difficult conundrum. It's sad to think that such a wonderful gift might doom you to a life of solitude. _

"Maybe it does," I muttered and leaned back to look across the yard at the women who were dealing out cards now and laughing at their own jokes. "On the other hand I feel closer to people, other people, people that barely know me. One of the things Esme hated the most about first integrating back into the human world was that she couldn't talk to people without having to breath more. She felt cut off because she was always holding her breath. I never needed that. I met people through their minds."

_So you're saying you're content with your life?_

"I don't know if I'd go that far. It's certainly better now that I'm not tempted to smack my parents heads together every few hours."

_Soon you'll be wanting to shove their heads apart,_ Eleazar thought, adding the glimpse he'd caught of Esme stealing a kiss from her fiancée on their last hunting trip.

"Yeah," I sighed heavily. "But I can deal with amorous thoughts. It's the… violent ones that bother me."

_Of theirs? _Eleazar thought, trying to picture what would bring Carlisle and Esme to violence. He was close in thinking that they would both fight to protect the other but not what I had meant.

"Human violent thought," I explained. "You'd be surprised how many violent and… despicable people I know of. They don't look any different from anyone else and no one else even knows the danger. But I do!" I shuddered.

_Have you ever acted to prevent one of them from committing violence? _Eleazar asked.

"Punish them for their thoughts?"

_Maybe not for their thoughts but their intentions? _He suggested.

I was puzzled by his words and the memories that accompanied them. Eleazar and Carlisle had both lived with the Volturi for a time but they had seen different sides of the coven. Eleazar had been one of them and knew how they dispensed justice first hand. Many times acting on the intentions of a coven had saved all Vampires from exposure. Even if he had left Voltera to live as Carlisle and the sisters did he still believed in the justice that was being done there. Like Aro I couldn't be fooled or lied to. I would know what crimes had been done and who was truly repentant. If I knew of the terrible things that were being done or would be done what part of the blame did I carry for not acting on my knowledge?

Those thoughts distracted me for a long time and even when Carmen and Kate invited us into their game I was distracted. Maybe my gift would always keep me from having a relationship with someone the way my parents did but I could do something else with my life, something meaningful. I wondered what Carlisle would think of my idea. Would he be disappointed in me? I considered asking him when he returned home from the library. I changed my mind thought when I heard through his and Esme's minds the happy reunion they shared on the porch. There was no reason to ask him now. He was happy with her and excited for the future. I could wait until after the wedding.

_._

**Kate**

_._

I found Esme painting in the front room, the one Edward 'slept' in. She had set up a small table easel on the desk and had pallets of watercolors out around her. Her pallet was awash in warm earthy autumn tones and a bright blue, which she had painted the sky. She turned quickly when I cracked the door open.

"Kate," She said with a smile and reached for a cloth to cover the work but she was a moment too slow.

"It's beautiful." I said softly. It was a wonder she had such fine control being as strong as vampires are. "You were painting the park trails by the river weren't you." I had recognized the scene from one of our walks in Rochester.

"Y-yes," Esme said. "Irina said she liked it and I thought… it would be a nice present to send back with you."

I ventured into the room and carefully lifted the drop cloth. I could see the warm colored canopy of trees dripping leaves into the river and the sky reflected around them. A few nondescript vague shapes inhabited the park but the real focus was the light in the treetops and their vivid color.

"You painted it on a sunny day," I noted.

"Yes, I got caught there once coming home from the school when the clouds broke up. I sat under the shade for a few hours until the sun set a bit more. It was enjoyable even if it was dangerous."

"It's beautiful. Irina will love it. But aren't we supposed to be giving you gifts?" I looked at her sidelong, "it is _your_ wedding after all."

"I'm getting everything I've ever dreamed of already." She said almost without thinking. "I know that sounds stupid but it's the truth. Why were you looking for me?"

"Not stupid, just a little love struck," I said, straightening up and brushing out the long cream dress I was wearing. "I was wondering if this was too much for the wedding. I have another dress I can wear that's not quite so flashy. I know you didn't want anything fancy for the wedding and I wouldn't want to outshine the bride." Not that I thought anyone could outshine Esme in Carlisle's eyes. The way he watched her some times made me wonder if he even saw other women anymore if they had all receded to the level of men in his attractions.

"Not at all," Esme said, shaking her head, "you look lovely. It's a very modern style. I don't think I could pull off something like that but… it suits you."

"Thanks. I usually just wear men's clothes up in Alaska. They're easier to move in."

"Yes," Esme laughed, "I have often thought hunting in a dress is… impractical."

"Shorter dresses are easier. I asked the woman to hem this one shorter but I think she's somewhat of a prude and ignored me."

"Would you like it shorter?" Esme asked, looking it over. "I think you're right. The dress was cut for someone with longer legs."

"I would but the wedding is only a few days away; that isn't enough time to get it hemmed," I said with a sigh, looking down at the cream fabric twining around my knees.

"Here, I can do it."

"What?" I asked. But Esme had already stood up and took my hands in her own. She lead me through the house to the little kitchen in the back. They apparently just used it for storage because there were boxes and bags and a little table covered in a sheet. Esme threw this back to reveal a few piles of fabric and spools of threat. Deftly she chose thread, needle and pins from the boxes and pegs.

"You sew too?" I asked.

"I learned when I was very young," She replied, positioning me in the middle of the small kitchen, which I now recognized as a converted sewing room. She knelt at the hem of my dress and began to work.

"I wish I had learned," I sighed. "There are lots of things I probably could have fixed myself over the years."

"I could teach you," Esme offered.

"I don't have the patience," I replied, feeling bad for refusing. "Tanya's tried to teach me but I'm not much use for delicate things." Delicate was never a word that would be used to describe me. Esme was just the opposite, soft spoken, soft features, and gentle, patient hands. She moved around me on her knees fiddling with the stitches faster than any human would have been able to work.

"It took me a long time to get used to doing things like this with my new strength," Esme said, making conversation. I was grateful. I'm not much good at making conversation—fights maybe.

"I was ecstatic. That was probably my favorite part of the change until I discovered my gift."

"Your gift?" Esme asked. "Like Edward?"

"Not really. Edward's power is passive."

"Would you show me yours?" Esme asked, shifting around again on her knees.

"You wouldn't like that," I said scrunching up my face. She gave me a curious face. "Fine," I relented, "but don't tell Carlisle."

"Alright?" She said, eyebrows drawn together. I held out my palm to her.

"Touch it, just one finger," I said. She put down her tools and reached out. I tried to keep the shock low as I could. She still yelped and snatched her hand back. "Yeah, that's why I said you wouldn't like it."

"Does that happen any time someone touches you?" She asked. I could see her thinking back to see if I had touched anyone.

"Nope," I said quickly. "Touch it again, it won't hurt." Cautiously she reached out again and this time just tapped my palm. When nothing happened she touched it more firmly.

"So, no one can touch you if you don't want them to?" She asked me. I thought it was an odd way to phrase the question.

"Something like that," I said with a shrug. She smiled a little sad smile that tugged at my cold heart. What was making her sad? I wondered.

"That must be nice," she looked down and shook her head before going back to her work. I considered her words. _That must be nice?_ I thought, like she doesn't know what that feels like?

"Is Carlisle forcing you into this?" I asked, my voice coming out more demanding than I intended and Esme jumped, dropping the hem of the dress quickly.

"What?" She squeaked.

"This marriage, is he forcing you?"

"NO!" She stood up in a flash, her voice just a growl and eyes blazing with fury at the insult.

"My mistake." I put my hands up in surrender and stepped back. As quickly as the anger had flared up in Esme it cooled to confusion

"Why would you think that?" She asked me.

"What you said 'That must be nice'. I thought someone must be forcing you to do something."

"N-no," she said looking down. She bent to pick up her tool and then to my shock went back to hemming my dress. For a long moment the only sounds were the swish of fabric and our breathing.

"It was my husband," she said suddenly.

"Not Carlisle?"

"No, Charles, the man I married as a human."

"Oh." I said realizing. She'd been wondering what her life would have been like if she had my gift then. I remembered Irina when she was younger and what the newborn strength had meant to her. Esme had explained her history vaguely to us on the Albany trip and only alluded to why she left. I'd assumed her husband was unfaithful which would be reason enough to leave him.

"Unhappy is a bit of an understatement then," I noted. She laughed a little nervously.

"Yes it is. I just don't like to think about him much now that I have Carlisle and Edward. That was my old life and I'm ready to put it behind me. I'm sorry I growled at you; that was a terrible thing to do."

"It's alright. I was wrong," I told her simply. "It didn't seem like something Carlisle would do but he does seem crazy about you."

"Really?" She asked, pausing to look up at me.

"You don't notice?" I chuckled.

"I guess not," she frowned. "In some ways I'm still getting used to the idea that he loves me, much less wants to marry me. This is all happening very fast."

"I've heard that bridge get… what do they call it?"

"Cold feet," she told me with a rueful smile. "My mother told me that was all I had the night before I married Charles."

"And now?" I asked her.

"No colder than usual."

"Vampire humor, good. Carlisle never got to that point. I think deep down he still wants to be human." I shook my head. "I guess this wedding is very different from your last one?" She laughed.

"You can hardly imagine."

"I haven't been to a wedding in a couple hundred years," I admitted, "so no I can't. Would you tell me about it? I mean if it doesn't bother you. You don't have to." _Great, now I sound like an idiot._ I thought to myself with a repressed groan. Esme just shook her head.

"It doesn't bother me. I've been thinking about it more than I'd like recently. Well the day I married Charles was a sunny summers day. I can't even go near a window on a day like that now. I was so nervous I couldn't eat anything before the wedding. It was held in our little local church and every family for ten miles was invited. Charles and his family came down from Columbus wearing fancy clothes. The building was packed. My mother cried a lot, mostly with joy. My three best friends were my brides maids, but I can't remember any of them smiling at me the whole day. Charles brought his friends from town and they were already drunk. I noticed but my mother refused to admit it. My father walked me down the aisle. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before he gave me away and whispered 'Take care, Ezzie' in my ear. It had been years since he called me that. Then Charles and I said our vows. Everyone went outside to the reception in the town center and they were all drunk before five in the afternoon.

"There! All done," She said, cutting off the end of the string with her teeth and jumping to her feet. I could see the picture that she was describing all too clearly. The packed little wooden building was a sea of expectant faces in my imagination and Esme standing next to a leering faced man with beady black eyes hesitantly saying her vows. I saw what she meant. This wedding would be very different.

"Thanks," I said, not sure what I was thanking her for.

"You're welcome. I'm happy to help in any way I can. It was very nice of all of you to come so far just for Carlisle and I." She said while she put away the thread and needle.

"We always enjoy coming to see family. Carlisle is family so you will be too."

"Thank you." She smiled shyly at me and I tried to return it as warmly as I could. "It's been nice to have female company."

"We've been enjoying the male company," I replied with a laugh. "Not _enjoying_ but just having men around makes life fun. Even Eleazar can have his moments." She looked a bit skeptical at the last part. "My sisters and I are a bit starved for male companions. 'Keep the hope alive' is what we say."

"'The hope'?" She asked.

"The hope we'll find mates," I replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I know Irinia had…"

"She had hoped but she didn't love Carlisle, not like you do." I said with a shrug. Of the three of us Irina had always been the most bothered by the solitude. She was quickest to hope and the most disappointed at every rejection. Somehow the kindness with which Carlisle denied her had stung her even worse than usual.

"I don't want that to come between us, especially not if we're to be family," Esme said, worrying her lip with her teeth.

"Irina will get over it." I knew already that Esme's kindness was working away at my sister's wound. Soon it would be just a memory as it should be. There was someone out there for each of us; we had to believe that.

"I hope so. You three and Carmen are the closest people I have had to… female friends in a very long time."

"What about your brides maids?"

"I lost touch with them when they married and moved to different counties. Charles didn't like me going out much in Columbus so I was usually on my own there."

I made an annoyed tisk noise and shook my head.

"I know it seems stupid, that I lived with someone who… who hurts me."

"No, it's not that," I said quickly. "I mean… I don't personally understand it. I was taught how to protect myself from a young age. It was my job later in life to protect others. I just don't understand how no one stood up for you."

"Someone did," she said, meeting my eyes for a moment. "Carlisle did." I felt a real genuine smile spreading across my face.

"Everything you've ever wanted, huh?" I asked.

"He really is."


	12. Chapter 12

**NOTE:** This chapter is **RATED M** for mature content and discussions of mature content.

Authors Note: I don't usually write M stuff (though i enjoy it occasionally). In this particular case I felt it was important to include considering what it means for the characters.

* * *

Chapter 12: Vows

_._

**Carmen**

_._

I waited long enough for Eleazar to get involved in the large text he was reading before I made my move. I know he was suspicious when I asked to come with the two older men to the university library. He trusted me though. So those suspicions were easily displaced by the new text that was spread across his lap. His brow was furrowed in his cutest serious expression so I had at least an hour before he surfaced from the intellectual pursuit.

"Where is the poetry section?" I asked, putting aside my book. Eleazar didn't even look up. "Would you show me, Carlisle?" I asked him.

"Yes, of course," he smiled at me politely, putting down his own book. I wondered if he was every rude. Like a gentleman he offered me his arm and lead the way across the large dimly lit library. It was late at night in the middle of the week so few students were around. The building was surprisingly silent.

"Actually," I whispered to Carlisle, fast and soft, "perhaps we could just take a turn around the room. There's something I wanted to talk to you about privately."

"Should I be worried about what you have to divulge?" He asked in the same low tone, too fast for humans to understand.

"No, it's simply a word of warning, and it may not apply to you," I said as we walked along between the shelves and the windows. "I've been watching Esme and I think she's a lovely girl. You two are well matched."

"Thank you," he replied, gracious but cautious. He had tensed at Esme's name and remained wary.

"But can't help feeling that there are sadder memories in her past." I went on a little slower, throwing him a sidelong glance.

"We all have parts of our past that we would rather forget," he said vaguely.

"Yes, we do," I agreed. "Long lived as we are they are unavoidable, but even in their short lives humans accumulate regrets as well. Tanya has told me a little of what Esme's human life was like. Am I wrong in thinking that she was more than just unhappy with her first husband?"

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked. I frowned, getting the feeling he was being intentionally obtuse.

"Did he harm her, physically or emotionally?" I asked and turned to study Carlisle's reaction. His face was serious and his eyes were colder than I had seen them yet. It was the first time that I really felt a monster might live behind his civility. "I thought so."

"Please…"

"I won't mention any of this to her, but I don't think it would do her harm to talk about it though. She may be more recovered from it than you are. Eleazar has a harder time hearing about the life I lived before I was changed than I do telling him."

"You had a similar experience?" He asked me.

"Not exactly," I shook my head and looked out toward the windows, "In my human life I was a courtesan and not a very well paid one. We were hired for beatings as often as we were for sex. In my line of work sex could be just as much a form of abuse as physical blows or words. The last night of my human life a vampire bought my services. He changed me, expecting a certain kind of gratitude in exchange for immortality."

"He wanted you for a mate?"

"Yes. He never thought I would refuse or he didn't account for my greater strength in the first months. I tore him apart and swore I would never let myself be so vulnerable to men. In truth I was terrified of being hurt again. You see, I know all ways a man can hurt a woman with words, with hands, with the way he dominates her."

"What exactly is it that you think I would do to Esme?" He asked me in a tight voice, his jaw tight and teeth clenched.

"Nothing intentionally. I'm telling you this because you need to know. It's likely her only sexual experience has been a kind of abuse. After that it's hard to accept the act as something… pleasurable, even… meaningful. When I first became close to Eleazar, his advances scared me at first. I denied him, hid from him, ran from him, even fought him."

"You didn't trust him," Carlisle said rationally and I shook my head.

"But I did. I knew Eleazar would never hurt me and more than that I wanted to be close to him. My reticence had nothing to do with our relationship. You need to be prepared for Esme to react the same way. You can't know her mind well enough—I don't even believe that Edward could know—to avoid triggering painful memories. There are comparisons that she won't be able to help drawing and feel guilty for even thinking about. As much as you love her and she loves you, her past is not something that those feelings can instantly overcome. I'm telling you because you I don't want to see her hurt… or you." I heard Carlisle draw a long, deep breath and then let it out very deliberately.

"Hurting her is the _last_ thing I want to do," he said to me in a begging voice. I smiled a little, reassured. Just knowing he wanted to help her put me at ease.

"Then be gentle with her. Don't push her and let her be in control. She will get over it in time but it may be a while before she can be comfortable with the physical side of love. God knows Eleazar was patient with me. I had been in sworn celibacy for fifty years and in no hurry to change when we met."

"You did change though?" He asked.

"Yes. I definitely did. But it took time. I understand what I was going through then a lot better now then I did when I was living it. I hope you and Esme can avoid some of the pain that we had to go through." I looked up to meet his golden eyes. They were compassionate and grateful. I saw that he understood how painful it was to hurt the person you love most.

"Thank you for telling me all this," he said softly.

"Thank you for listening. I know I've only just met you and Esme, and it's not really my place to intercede on private matters."

"No," he shook his head, "you were looking out for her. She needs more friends in the world and I wouldn't criticize anyone for trying to do the right thing by her."

"I do wonder if there is rude bone in your body, Dr. Cullen," I muttered. He just smiled, not too wide as to be really amused but a decidedly neutral, polite smile.

"The poetry section," he said, coming to a stop at a long bookcase.

"Thank you very much," I said with a nod. "I think I'll browse for a while and find you later."

"You're very welcome," he said but his voice was filled with gratitude. He turned around and left back through the shadowy rows of shelves. I sighed deeply. _At least,_ I thought, _he has a better start than we did. What happens next is up to them._

_. _

**Irina**

_._

Something about Elk was extremely off putting so after one I was quite finished hunting for the day. I left my sisters to the rest of it and headed back to the Cullen's little house. At least there I could try and find a slightly less oily smell to fill my nose. Even dusty books smelled better. I slowed to a sedate walk when I reached the tree line and crossed the long yard. Even from the back I had to admit that the little house was quaint. It was just the kind of house I imagined a middle-aged couple would settle into. Despite being in their twenties, Carlisle physically and Esme literally, they acted older and… wearier. I think that was the right word. Carlisle had seen so much of the world even though he was younger than my sisters and I. Esme had an air of experience about her. She seemed to value the happy moments as if they were about to end forever.

"It was a good book, you were right," I heard Edward's voice in the little kitchen at the back of the house as I approached. Whatever response he got was silent though; I couldn't hear who he was speaking to. Probably Carlisle.

"You should ask Irina about that," I heard him say next as I opened the back door. Instead of turning left into the dining room, I turned right, toward his voice.

"Ask me about what?" I said in the doorway. Then I caught sight of who he was talking to and I wished I had ignored him. Esme was sitting at the little table, which turned out to be a sewing machine, in the repurposed kitchen surrounded by piles of cut fabric and squares of a half sewn quilt.

"I think I'll go join Carlisle, Eleazar, and Carmen at the library," Edward said with a meaningful look at Esme. He slid past me in the doorway and I had to step into the room to let him past, further committing myself to whatever question was coming. _Thanks Edward, _I thought at him with a glare at his back. I knew he was well aware of my dislike for his new mother. I fought the urge to run but that seemed petty.

Esme couldn't meet my eyes. She was fiddling with a triangle of cloth and biting her lip. She looked as reluctant to ask me her question, as I was to talk to her. As much as I was coming to like the woman I think I was justified in wanting more than a week to become civil toward her. A few decades sounded like enough time.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?" I tried not to sound upset. I'm not entirely sure I didn't fail.

"It's really… not… it's silly," she stuttered, fingers absently shredding the little cloth triangle into a handful of short threads. I didn't know Esme very well but 'silly' was not a word I would have chosen for her even if I was allowing myself to be mean. I suddenly felt bad for scaring her out of whatever it was she was going to say.

"It's ok. You can ask. I won't get angry." I assumed it would be something about my past with Carlisle and really there was nothing to tell. Maybe it would garner me a little good will with her though she had never been even passively hostile toward me. If anything she went out of her way to be kind to me despite my frosty attitude.

"You've…" she started but then seemed to lose her nerve. "Never mind."

"Alright," I said and turned to go. I wasn't about to hang around and wait for her to figure out what to say. I had tried, that was all I needed to do. I had been civil. That was an accomplishment, right?

"You've had sex with other men?" she said it in a rush when I was half turned in the doorway. I froze. _She wants to talk about sex?_ I thought in disbelief.

"Yes." I answered honestly, bemused.

"W—what was… I mean… it's just…" She put her face in her hand with a heavy embarrassed sigh. "This is so stupid. I'm sorry. Please, please forget I said anything."

I just stood in the doorway perplexed. She was about to marry one of the kindest men in the world, she was beautiful (even if it was in a decidedly plain way), he was beautiful (like Michelangelo ignudo), and they had immortal, never tiring, never aging bodies. And she was worried about the sex? Then I remembered how young she was. In 800 years I'd lost track of the men, mortal and immortal I had taken to bed. She had been human only a few years ago and the standards of propriety for women were so different for a human. An unmarried woman was supposed to be a virgin. But Esme had been married. Was she worried that it wouldn't be as good? That she wouldn't be good enough for Carlisle? Was she worried she wouldn't be as good as I was? _That's ridiculous, _was my immediate reaction to the last thought.

"I didn't sleep with him if that's what you're wondering." I said, trying not to be curt. I meant the words to put her at ease. I knew there was little competition for looks but at least she wouldn't have competition with him in bed.

"No, no, no," Esme said quickly, looking up with wide surprised eyes. "That's not what… I mean that's nice to know but not… that wasn't what Edward was talking about." She deflated as quickly as she had started and fell silent again.

"What was it then? If Edward thinks I have the answer then he's probably right." I huffed. _He usually is _infuriatingly _right,_ I thought dryly.

"Yes, I know that." She agreed, nodding but still unable to meet my eyes. She took a deep breath, then said, "I was just thinking… well I've… I never enjoyed sex with my husband. I was just worrying… wondering what it would be like… tomorrow."

_Why did Edward need me to answer this question?_ I wondered.

"I'm not speaking from experience but it'll be great," I said to Esme. She looked up at me quickly, confused and disbelieving.

"I hope he thinks so," she said, hands on her elbows, hugging herself lightly.

"You will too."

"I don't expect that."

"Why not? Was it so bad with your ex-husband?" I asked and I saw her shudder, shaking ripples into her dress. Her fear at wearing the dress Tanya had bought her, her reluctance to talk about her past, Carlisle's hovering protectiveness, and her timid attempts at friendship suddenly made sense to me. In the space of a single breath I realized why Edward had suggested she talk to me of all the visiting women.

"Or was it only ever about what he wanted?" I asked. "You never had any choice, even if you fought. What he wanted…"

"…he took." Esme whispered the last words softly, eyes on the floor and hands gripping her elbows.

"I see," I said. _So that's what she's worried about,_ I thought with a mental groan. I should have known that even Carlisle, never-a-toe-out-of-line Carlisle, couldn't have a perfect wedding.

"It doesn't have to be that way and it won't," I told her emphatically, "What ever your last husband was that isn't Carlisle."

"I know that," Esme nodded, the smallest shake of her head and her eyes still downcast. _Damn you Edward, _I thought. _Why did you have to say something? Why do I have to open up to her now? I don't even _like_ her._ I was growling in my head but another part of me was saying I should tell her. Esme had only ever been nice to me even when she had no reason to be. If I could do this for her, wasn't it worth the discomfort to me? I relented to my better side.

"You know I was raped?"

At my words, she jumped in her seat and stared at me with wide eyes.

"I was a poor farm girl then," I looked away from her out of the dark back windows, trying not to see the foggy human memories I had stupidly clung to. I swallowed thickly and continued my story: "My mother cried like I had died when she found out, and my father just about beat me to death himself. That was the usual reaction back then. When I was immortal I took out a lot of my anger at men on my prey. It was satisfying for a while to know I was so much stronger and faster. For the first time they couldn't harm me. But the satisfaction wore off and I was still bitter. Then I realized that I still felt dirty and ruined because of what had been done to me."

I saw Esme flinch at this and look down at her hands, shoulders slumping. _Does she feel that way too? Like ruined goods? _I wondered. I moved closer slowly, bending down in front of her. I reached out tentatively and took her hands. "I realized eventually that I was giving the man who raped me power by letting myself feel that way. You don't have to give your ex-husband that power. You don't have to let the good things he has perverted stop you from enjoying your future. Don't give him that power."

Slowly she raised her head to meet my eyes.

"It's that easy?" She asked me.

"No, it's not easy." I sighed. Saying it out loud now sounded so simple but I had struggled for years to overcome what had been done to me. Esme was going to have a long road in front of her as well. I did feel a stab of jealousy; unlike me she didn't have to face that road alone.

Esme took a deep breath, I saw it moving her shoulders back, and when she let it out, they stayed there, a little straighter. She gripped my hands with shaking fingers.

"I'm scared," she admitted.

"Of Carlisle?" I asked her, raising one eyebrow. She paused for a moment and then gave a short laugh and shook her head.

"No, no, not of Carlisle. I don't think I could ever be scared of Carlisle."

"Then what do you have to be afraid of? It won't be perfect at first but you love him and he loves you so you'll keep at it."

"Practice makes perfect?" She asked me with a laugh threatening in her voice.

"Why would sex be an exception to that rule?" I asked. It was nice to laugh with Esme, even as tempered as our laughter was then. _Maybe I was too hard on her at first, _I thought. _It seems we have more in common than I realized._

"Thank you Irina. I know this… all this, isn't easy for you. Seeing Carlisle and I so happy…" Esme said, compassion in her eyes and her hands surer as they squeezed mine. I was very glad at that moment that I had listened to my better side. (Though I was still angry with Edward.)

"I really wanted to be able to hate you when I first arrived," I told her honestly, "but I'm much happier to know we can be friends." I smiled a genuine smile at my cousin-to-be for the first time. Esme's answering smile was warm and kind. To my own surprise I found myself looking forward to the morning and the wedding.

_._

**Carlisle**

_._

The first snow was falling outside the windows of the little Chapel. It had started early that morning and begun to stick to the trees and the grass by mid morning. Now as the sun passed overhead behind the cloud cover the world was blanketed in the thinnest layer of white. It was the only decoration for the occasion. The little Chapel, a small stone building that rarely held service was empty but for Eleazar, Edward, the officiant and myself.

It didn't seem quite real to me yet even as I was standing there. It hadn't been so long ago that I had first met her in that little wooden office that smelled of foul medicine. It hadn't been that long since she first held my hand on the hospital bed sheet overs, flowing blood pressing through her burning hot skin against my cold, solid fingers. It hadn't been that long since I had first kissed her, thoughtlessly because I didn't know what else to do, because I needed to. How did it all fit in that short amount of time? She couldn't really be coming.

Wasn't it more plausible that I dreamed up her ever asking me? Maybe I dreamed up the trip to Columbus and she had never really felt the same way for me. Maybe she did at one time but after changing her she couldn't see the kind doctor anymore just the desperate lonely monster who had stolen her away. Or I dreamed up that she had survived that fall because without her in the world what was the point. Her life with me was all my heartbroken delusion. Insanity seemed more reasonable than the truth. That she would accept this terrible life so quickly and happily, accept me enthusiastically, ask me to marry her? No, insanity made more sense.

"She's outside already," Edward said behind me. "Decide, are you marrying a figment of your imagination or a woman who needs you just as much as you need her?"

_I know, Son, _I thought to him turning to give him my best withering look, _but when I can't see her for myself, I can't quite make my mind believe the truth._

"Then turn around," he mouthed the words to me. I heard the doors opening and looked back to see. Tanya and Kate in beautiful pale dresses come floating down the aisle with Carmen in gray between them. Esme followed behind them, holding, to my surprise, Irina's arm. Irina was genuinely smiling encouragingly at Esme. I could barely give a passing thought to the turn around in their friendship though because Esme was walking toward me.

It was really her. She caught my eyes with her own and her tentative smile became wide, her worries melting away and the fullness appearing in her cheeks that I loved. She looked beautiful dressed all in white. Her gown was made of lace, with an empire waist and pleats of thin floating fabric just above her ankles, barely trailing on the floor behind her as she walked. Against her skin and the lace, her hair looked dark. It was held close around her heart-shaped face by the net veil that tucked in around her ears. Gold embroidery glinted on the high collar of her dress and on her wrist where Elizabeth Masen's bracelet hung, her only jewelry, and that was fitting. The bouquet in her hand was made of red winter flowering quince and fragrant evergreen leaves. Just under the spiny green leaves was a flash of blue, the little blue button sewn onto her glove to replace a lost one. She paused to pass the bouquet to Irina before she took my hands.

Feeling her solid hands, the same temperature as mine and just as hard and smooth, it finally felt real. I barely heard what the minister was saying because I was looking into her eyes, warm buttery golden orbs looking back at me. Of course she was really there, I couldn't have dreamed up the days with her any more than I could erase them. I never could have imagined all her kindness or all the mistakes that I had made. I couldn't have dreamed up her forgiveness or the warm feeling of my heart swelling out of my chest.

Very softly behind me Edward cleared his throat and I caught the minister's last words

"…or forever hold their peace." He said and for a moment chapel was silent. I swallowed, unsure if I would have the voice to speak.

"I, Carlisle Cullen, take you, Esme Anne, to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in times of hardship and in times of prosperity, to love and to cherish, to protect and to support, as long as we both shall live, in the presence of the Lord, I do so vow." My last words were breathless yet they echoed in the rafters.

"I, Esme Anne," she said, her voice soft but growing more sure as she repeated my words. Her eyes never left mine and they never wavered. Her grip on my hands was firm and steady. Her trust meant as much to me as her vows, perhaps more. I knew she would always be there as she always had been. It would take forces stronger than death to tear us apart now. "I do so vow," she answered me, her voice clear and ringing off the stone and stained glass.

Edward produced the rings and Esme removed her gloves, the little blue button winking in the low light. I slid the simple band onto her finger, pressing the inscription against her skin.

She placed the larger ring on my finger, smiling to see it there, glimmering with a warm light against the pale back of my hand.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

But I didn't. Esme jumped into my arms, her own winding around my neck. She kissed me deeply. Around us our family clapped happily and laughed. Edward's deep chuckle lasted the longest, even after Esme had released me looking very embarrassed, her lip between her teeth but the corners of her mouth pulling up in a smile.

Tanya and Eleazar happily swapped taking pictures in the snowy churchyard after we thanked the bemused minister. I doubted he had ever seen a wedding party like ours or would ever see one like it afterward. Finally the camera was spent and everyone crowded round on some signal I had missed. Edward pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it out to Esme.

"What's this?" I asked him.

"Your honeymoon."

"Edward," Esme frowned. "You said you were getting us a room at the hotel for the night."

"Yes, well I lied," he said with his lopsided, arrogant grin. Esme opened the envelope to reveal a key and a note with directions and an address. "I think you'll forgive me."

Esme looked at me, excited and apprehensive at the same time. I think my expression was much the same.

"Well, get going," Tanya said, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the car on the curb. "You have a whole week. Send us a letter when you get back," she said to Esme and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Kate," Esme said before she got in the car, "would you show Irina where the painting is."

"Yes, of course. We'll all enjoy it." Kate assured her and hugged her new cousin goodbye.

Irina hugged Esme just as tightly and whispered something so low and soft into her ear that I didn't catch it. I think if Esme could have cried, she would have out of gratitude from the look on her face. Instead she just nodded to Irina, her expression a mixture of overwhelming emotions.

Carmen gave her a kiss on each cheek and sent one last look my way. Gravely I nodded to her and to my surprise she smiled. It seemed she had more faith in me than I did in myself.

Edward hugged her last and then leaned through the passenger window when she was inside the car with me.

"Eleazar thinks I should warn you not to break any furniture, it might be hard to explain," He said in the open window. He just laughed at my expression of shock and horror. "See you in a week." Esme rolled up the window and I pulled away from the curb. As we drove the snow started to fall lightly again all around us. The dim light bounced off the gold band on my finger looking like a bit of trapped sunlight in the white landscape. I looked over at Esme to find her looking at me with a lingering, unconscious smile.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked her, reaching up thoughtlessly to brush her cheek. She caught my hand and held it there.

"I was thinking this is dawn and I'm going to wake up."

"I'll be there if you do," I replied and she nodded back at me.

_._

**Esme**

_._

Edward's directions led us east and then north toward the Salmon River Reservoir in Oswego County. Soon we were cutting tracks in the light snow covering on a seldom-used road into the woods. The long drive our instructions took us to ended with a small wooden bridge over a half frozen brook. In a thinning of trees was the little cabin. It was an old Dutch beam style construction house with cheery red shutters and the roof white with snow. I couldn't help but smile at the inviting little building.

"It's perfect," I whispered.

"Remote and secluded," Carlisle said, shaking his head. "We have to thank him somehow."

"I think this may be for his benefit as well," I chuckled a little nervously, "considering the number of time he has… um _walked_ in on us."

"'Barged in' may be a better description," Carlisle muttered. He pulled the car up beside the house. He was around to open the door for me in a flash. Even just his hand holding mine as I got out of the car felt like an electric shock, pleasant but not unlike Kate's firetouch. I knew if my heart could still beat it would be fluttering erratically.

Before I could walk two steps toward the door my feet were swept out from under me and I was lifted into the air. It startled a laugh out of my tight chest.

"Carlisle!" I gasped.

"Of all people, I think I can be faulted least for being old fashioned," he replied as he carried me, as easily as if I were light as air toward the house. Veil and lace billowed around me and caught some of last falling flakes of snow. They settled in his hair, white on pale blond. Nothing was quite like it was supposed to be for our wedding yet it was perfect all the same, I thought, looking at his perfect face. His warm golden eyes caught me staring and gave me a curious look. All of the world I could see was white and gold in that moment and I didn't want it to end. It was too perfect.

"What are you thinking, love?" He asked me, stopping on the snow-covered path.

"I'm thinking…" I paused not quite sure what I was thinking. Patiently he waited through my deliberations until I said finally, "I'm thinking I don't want to go inside because I'm so happy in this moment right here."

"And you don't think tonight will be the same?" He asked me. There was a somber sadness and reluctance that mirrored my own on his face.

"I—I don't know, that's why I don't want this to end."

"I don't either." He admitted. "It's ok to be… hesitant about this, the physical part. I don't know what you're going through but I think I can understand."

"You do?" I asked him in surprised. _Could he know that I was terrified and yet I yearned for him with an ache that burned? Could he understand I loved him more than earth under my feet and the very existence of light but I couldn't think of being naked in his presence without wanting to run as fast as my legs could carry me away from him?_

"You have made some good friends this past week and Carmen expected you might have trepidations. She gave me a rather passionate warming last night informed by her own experiences. So I don't know if tonight will be as perfect as today was, in all likelihood it won't. But I want to give it the chance."

I stared into his hopeful eyes, supported in his arms, pondering his words. _What did Carmen tell him? _I wondered but I was too scared to ask at that moment. Instead I took a deep breathe and bit my lip.

"You know my dreams never got this far," I told him.

"Never?" He asked in surprised.

"Did yours?"

"I—I am a man." He admitted with some shame in his voice. "I think it's a bit late to try and hide that from you. What were your dreams about, would you tell me sometime?"

"Maybe sometime," I stalled. "They'll probably seem silly to you."

"I doubt that very much," he said seriously.

"Mostly they were about everyday things… and what you would have done differently from…" I trailed off. On such a perfect day, it didn't seem right to talk about _him_. I moved on quickly, and my motivation to avoid the odious subject gave me courage. "When I imagined our wedding it was always different, maybe we ran off on the spur of the moment or had a long separated engagement that only ended when I saw you on the day. But I didn't think much about…" I swallowed, "… what came afterward. It's silly, I know." I looked down at my veil as I fiddled with it.

"Not at all," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Then why are you laughing?" I accused, slightly stung.

"Because they sound so much like my dreams of you," he defended. "I don't think they're silly."

"I don't believe you."

"Really, they are that different. I always thought it would be a small ceremony, maybe in a garden or in my wilder dreams a sunny beach, you'd look beautiful even if it were impossible. I used to think about the places I might take you on our honeymoon, even before I learned you wanted to travel, and to be honest I plan on taking you all of those places and more."

"Where?"

"Paris for a start—I know it's not original but I think you'll love it there. I was thinking we could go in a few years… a kind of anniversary honeymoon."

"We've only been married a few hours," I said with a laugh, "and you're planning our anniversary?"

"I am always planning ways to make you happy," he replied, eyes dark and intense on mine in a way that had nothing to do with thirst. I drew a shuddering breath and swallowed.

"You do that every minute just by being here, with me," I replied. _I'm being stupid about this, _I told myself._ Remember what Irina said. This is Carlisle not Charles. There's nothing to be scared of because I _know_ Carlisle will never hurt me. I just have to be honest with him… and I think I can do that?_

"I'm ready to go inside now," I whispered and he nodded, smiling but his eyes were serious. He carried me the rest of the way up the path and I opened the lock for him with the key Edward had given me. He carried me into the cozy little cabin where the embers of a banked fire were burning in the stone hearth and the smells of dried lavender and hard wood swirled around us. I took a deep breath of the new smells and caught the hint of something familiar.

"For some reason," I said, "it smells like the place we lived in Ashland."

"It does," Carlisle agreed.

"It smells like home," I sighed.

"Then welcome home, Mrs. Cullen," he whispered into my hair and a smile spread uncontrollably across my face. I leaned closer into his arms.

"I like the way that sounds."

"Mmmm, I do too," he sighed, his smell mixing with all the aromas of the house and soothing my worries.

"Shall we explore a little further?" He asked and set me down lightly on my feet. I nodded. He took my right hand with his left and I could feel the band of gold against my palm on his ring finger.

The cabin was a long building with an open plan. The front room was both the living and dinning room, the latter covered by the upstairs loft. Past a half wall was the kitchen on the west side of the building and on the east a little foyer and the back door. We climbed the spiraling stairs up into the loft bedroom nestled under the open-beamed ceiling of the steep roof. A large bed against the upright wall dominated the space. The headboard was carved in modern curling sinuous patterns and the bedclothes were pale white cream and light yellow draping to the floor. A door on one side of the bed lead back to a small bathroom and on the other side seemed to open onto a snow-covered terrace. It was perfect and yet the sight of it sent me into trembling terror. Carlisle felt it through our locked hands. I saw him look back at me, pausing and debating.

"Would you like to go hunting first?" he asked me. "It's a new area to explore at the least and the snow isn't falling hard."

"Yes," I quickly jumped on the idea. "That sounds good." I looked down at my dress, not really suited for hunting and around the room for our bags, which Edward was supposed to send ahead to the 'hotel'. My small suitcase, the very one I had carried from the farm on my first wedding, sat beside Carlisle's duffle bag on the wooden chest against the railing.

"I should change."

"I'll give you a moment of privacy," he said nodding and turned to head back down the stairs.

"Actually," I stopped him in a moment of bravery that deserted me after the first word. My voice shook as I continued, "would you help me?" He stood by the stairway looking perplexed for a moment and I fumbled to explain. "I—I mean you can stay… I want you to… I think… a little practice might help." I didn't know if he understood at first. He crossed the loft in a few steps, his face unreadable and reached out to brush my cheek as he had in the car. Tentatively, slowly, watching my face for any hesitation, he leaned down to kiss me with heartbreaking gentleness. I wasn't sure I wanted gentleness. I wanted passion, passion enough to make me forget my fears but It was that same passion also scared me.

"What ever makes this easier," he whispered when he pulled away. I licked my lip, tasting his unique flavor on my tongue, and nodded. He stood beside me as I opened my suitcase and removed one of the house dresses packed there. (Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered which of the women had packed for me.)

I laid out the dress on the railing, turning my back to Carlisle. Trying to forget I wasn't alone, I took out the pins that held on my veil first, releasing my hair. I reached out to lay it across the closed suitcase and Carlisle's hand lifted it from mine to complete the motion. I glanced back at him over my shoulder, catching his eyes and his expression. It was cautious and patient.

Slowly I lifted by hair and bared for him the long strip of buttons down the back of my dress. I heard him take a deep breath and the floor creak under his feet as he stepped closer. It was strange to feel someone else slowly easing open each button and the fabric puling across my skin with every touch. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Carlisle behind me. _What is he looking at? What is he thinking? _I wondered. He wasn't even breathing behind me, completely silent as he undressed me. Finally the last button was undone. For a moment he hesitated. My shaking became worse even as I tried to control it. I jumped at the first gentle tug on the fabric as he slowly eased it off my shoulders, one by one, bearing the thin straps of my slip and bare shoulders. I dropped my hair and pulled in my arms to let the dress slide off. Once free of my arms, Carlisle let it slide almost to the floor. I stepped out of it easily. He laid it carefully on top of the veil. I turned half way to see him in my periphery. I carefully bent at my knees to take off my shoes, careful not to let my slip slide too far up my thighs. Still I felt it rising over the top of my hose. Free of the shoes, I straightened quickly. I fumbled with the clasp of my bracelet, which I never wore hunting, but my hands shook so badly I could hardly manage it.

"Let me," Carlisle whispered and I jumped at the sound of his voice. I saw him take a step back and shook my head.

"I—I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice shaking as badly as my hands.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Esme." He took a slow step forward and reached out one hand to gently unclasp the bracelet from my wrist. I let it slide onto his waiting palm. He placed it just as carefully as the other items on top of my wedding dress. "I'll wait for you downstairs," he said, picking up his own bag and left quickly. I sighed heavily in relief.

As soon as he was gone though my chest became tight and I longed to see him again. _Why is this so complicated? _I wanted to scream. _Why can't I just _want_ him without being scared of _having_ him? _But it wasn't really having Carlisle that scared me. I was scared of _him_ having _me_. I was scared of what the passion I had felt so many times restrained in his kissed and touches might drive him to do when released. But I wanted more than the gentle chaste kiss he had given me earlier. I growled lowly to myself and pulled on the dress off the railing. I tied my hair back in a huff and found a pair of sensible shoes before heading downstairs. If they could my cheeks would have been burning in shame.

Carlisle was waiting at the back door of the little cottage, having changed as well. He held out his hand silently to me and smiled warmly.

"Shall we go see what the hunting is like?"

"We might be lucky enough to find bears getting ready to hibernate," I said, forcing myself to think about hunting. That at least would put off returning upstairs for a few hours.

"You would have to beat me to the bear," he challenged. "You're not as fast as you were a year ago."

"Still faster than you, I'd bet," I teased him.

"I'd bet a sleepy bear you're wrong," He said and took off into the trees.

Hunting was a good distraction and we did find bears, two large ones, which lightened my mood. We explored the empty forest around our little honeymoon cabin and located our nearest neighbors well out of even our earshot. It really was the perfect place. I even started thinking of ways to repay Edward and the Denali Coven. But soon enough the moon was rising, and Carlisle and I found ourselves back outside the little cottage. The snow was silver in the moonlight all around the little house. Carlisle ran ahead of me this time. As I approached at human pace I saw lights winking into flickering life in every window. When I walked in the whole cabin was lit with candles. Carlisle was standing in the foyer, waiting for me. The firelight bounced off his skin, throwing a barely visible rainbow every now and then. I sighed at the sight of him.

Carlisle opened his arms and I happily stepped into his embrace. For a long moment we stayed there, just holding each other and I could forget why we were up in the middle of nowhere alone together. Edward wasn't going to barge in on us this time. We had no reasons to hold back or wait but…

"We don't have to do anything tonight," he whispered to me, his thoughts on a similar track to mine. I was shaking my head before he was even finished speaking.

"No, waiting won't change anything. I—I'm ready to be your wife—in every way—even… even if it scares me a little." His arms loosened on my shoulders so he could lean back to look at my face.

"You're sure?" He asked me.

"Yes." I hoped my eyes could say what my lips couldn't: _I need you close to me in every way that is bodily and emotionally possible because I've never loved anyone the way I love you. I want every day of forever with you, and the sooner this day is behind us, the sooner I can do that. _

"Then, Mrs. Cullen," he said, taking a deep breath, "will you come to bed with me?"

In answer I took his hands, glancing down at the golden band reflecting the candle light on his finger. I held the image of it and led him toward the stairs. This time he followed me up into our loft suite. As soon as my feet touched the top of the stairs he sprung up beside me and caught me up in his arms again.

His lips found mine easily, kissing me deeply and passionately before I had a moment to be afraid, hands still and flat against my back, mine against his chest between us. I kissed him back, losing myself in the smell of him and the melting snow that still clung to both of us. I slid my hands up his neck and brushed one along his jaw, feeling the lines of his face while the other explored his hair, wind tossed and damp. My fingers found something hard and I giggled against his lips. He pulled away and I held up the twig from out of his hair between us.

"I think you were in a bit of a hurry to win that race," I joked.

"A pointless hurry, you're still faster than me. I think it comes with feminine grace," he replied, taking the stick and tossing it over his shoulder and the railing to fall on the living room carpet below.

"I promise not to tell Edward you said that," I whispered conspiratorially and he laughed just before I added, "out loud."

"You wouldn't," he gaped in mock humor and I swatted his chest playfully. It was easy to be with him this way, pretending that nothing was impending. He laughed with me and let me go turning to the chest where my wedding dress was laid out.

His back to me he started to unbutton his shirt. My eyes widened and a thrill of mixed fear and excitement shot through me. I sat down on the edge of the large bed before my knees could give out. My mind began to race again and quickly I looked for something new to distract me.

"W-what did Carmen say to you?" I asked him.

"She wanted to tell me about what it was like for her when she first met Eleazar," Carlisle explained, un-tucking his shirt. "In her human life she was not well treated by men, and she found it hard to trust her mate with her physically even if she trusted him intellectually." Carlisle sat down and took off his shoes, eyes downcast as he continued to explain. I let my eyes roam from his face down the perfect smooth planes of his chest.

"Carmen is a very observant woman and very respectful about the whole affair. She pulled me aside while we were in the library to tell me about her past because she was worried for you. Time gave her a better understanding of what was holding her back years ago and… I think she wanted to spare you the pain she went through." He finally looked up at me and smiled. "You've made good friends as I hoped you would."

"I have," I replied.

"Irina most surprisingly," he noted.

"Yes, that was surprising," I laughed, the sound nervous. "I don't think I'll explain just yet why… um, thing changed between us. It was… a private conversation."

"I won't ask then," he said. Charles had said that to me before but when he said it there was passive aggressive anger in his voice. Carlisle said it acceptingly, trusting my judgment.

"Thank you. I—I wouldn't want to betray her trust."

"I know," he nodded and stood up, slipping the shirt off his shoulders and letting it fall onto the top of the trunk. He quickly undid his belt buckle and pulled it out of the loops of his pants, laying it over the railing of the loft. I sighed without consciously deciding to do so, struck by how little I had really known of his beauty. He turned to me, barefoot and clothed only in the light colored, loose fitting pants that barely clung to his hips, and met my eyes evenly. I got up and went to his side, lifting his hands and leading him silently to my place on the bed. Obediently he sat there.

_My turn,_ I thought nervously. _He trust me and I trust him_, I told myself and turned around, unbuttoning my dress as I walked back to the railing and the trunk. I slid off my shoes and pulled the dress over my head. Instead of wondering at his expression, this time I turned around to watch him. His eyes were locked on mine, his face serene and handsome, framed by his white-blond hair darkened with melted snow. Keeping my eyes on my new husband I untied my hair, shaking it out.

His golden eyes stayed locked on me.

I pulled the slip over my head and when it fell on top of the wedding dress he was still looking at my eyes. I stood now in a bra, the short skirt-like knickers, and hose, my bare skin exposed across my shoulders and at my midriff. My eyes on his, I leaned down and slid the stocking from my thigh down to my ankle. I laid the first one over my slip on the trunk. Still his eyes had never left mine.

"Aren't you going to watch?" I asked him, my voice no more than a whisper.

"I am watching," he assured me, gaze unwavering.

I slid the second stocking off. My shaking hands were slow with the ties of my bra, but I could manage. Even as it fell away his eyes didn't leave mine, though something was slowly changing on his face. I swallowed and released the tie on my last piece of clothing. I let it go reluctantly, giving it to gravity to pull down over the curve of my hips and down to the floor. I heard the sudden breath he drew in.

Slowly I walked toward him, my steps small. He didn't move or reach to touch me until I was almost between his knees.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, hands on my sides, neither low nor high and light against my skin. I shuddered both into and away from his touch. I felt his hands pulling away, misunderstanding. I didn't want him to stop. I wanted more.

Not trusting my voice I reached out of his face instead, holding it on both sides, and bent to kiss him passionately, begging with my lips silently when they failed at speech. His hands returned to press more firmly against my skin, holding me in place. His mouth opened under my lips and I could taste his breath. For a dizzying moment my tongue met his and the new feeling made me tense up. He pulled away and a moan escaped from between my teeth. He was breathing shallowly and his eyes as they met mine were dark. My hands still framed his face and I brushed a thumb over his lips, feeling his breath past my skin.

This time I pulled him to me, and he rose up to kiss me, coming closer, bending over me. My breasts brushed against his chest and gentle unexpected contact sent the fire in my core blazing. I pressed myself closer, letting one hand slide down from his jaw to his chest, tracing the smooth skin with my fingers as I had with my eyes. He let go of my sides to wrap his arms around my back. My hand had reached his abs, running over the muscles there and around to his hip. I trailed my finger's lower to run along his waistband.

Carlisle gasped suddenly, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against mine, eyes pressed shut and he leaned into me. For a moment I was sure I wanted him more than anything else in the world and I dropped both hands to the button of his pants. Released they fell, claimed too by gravity. Just as they hit the floor his arms tightened around me, lifting me off the ground. For one heart stopping second I was his captive, spinning around in the air and then I was lying back on the bed.

For a moment his arms were gone as he dashed around the other side of the bed to lay down beside me on top of the white and yellow duvet. Then he was beside me, leaning on one arm and eyes intent on my face. I swallowed. I was finally there, in bed with him and all my boldness and surety was gone. I suddenly felt every bit as naked as I was lying there before him and I wished he'd never let me go. I ached to be back in his arms but my own treacherous appendages stayed limp on the covers at my side. My legs were tensed to run but I wondered if I could even make it to the stairs.

"Esme," he breathed my name in his reverent way, somehow making it sound different from anyone else who had ever spoken it. He brushed on hand gently across my cheek. He reached down, arm hovering over my body. For a moment I was terrified he would drop his hand to my chest, my breast, my abdomen and the thought raised Goosebumps on my arms. But his hand lifted my own and two gold flashes tore my gaze from his face. He lifted my hand slowly to his lips and kissed the wedding band on my finger.

"Please, Esme," he whispered and for a moment I thought he was asking for me to give in to him. "Please, tell me what you want."

"You," my response was barely conscious. I rolled toward him and he reached out for me, dragging our bodies together as our lips met again. This time I was excited when his tongue slid against mine and leaned into the open mouthed kiss. His hand slid slowly up my chest to lightly hold my breast and I pressed into his touch. He was gentle, his hand massaging and the tip gripped lightly between his fingers. I moaned against his kiss and he just kissed me harder, pressing closer to me but the warmth spreading in my core wanted more. His hand slid down my side again to my hip where his thumb traced maddening circles on my skin.

His lips pulled away from mine and I slid my hand into his hair, holding his face close to mine.

"Promise me," he said breathlessly, "you'll stop me if this isn't what you want. At any time, just say the word and I'll stop." He kissed my cheeks and forehead, one arm holding me close by my shoulders and the other hand gripping my hip. "Promise me."

"I promise," I nodded, not quite believing. His hand on my hip slid down even further over the bare skin of my thigh to my knee and hooked it there. Slowly he rolled, pulling me with him, till I was hovering, straddled over him. Charles would never have allowed me to do that. I looked down into Carlisle's warm eyes, feeling his hand sliding up my leg to my hip and tracing circles with his thumb again. I moaned and leaned down to capture his lips frantically, cutting off a low moan from escaping him.

I wanted to hear those beautiful noises—noises that were mine—he was making because of me so I pulled my lips away from his, trailing them over his chin and up his jaw, leaning down further and letting my breast press against his chest. His groan of pleasure became a soft growl that was also mine. I wanted more. I pressed an open-mouthed kiss just under the end of his jaw and he gasped, arching into my body, hands unconsciously moving to hold my hips. He dragged my pelvis toward him, thumbs pressed into the hollows of my hips. Suddenly I was standing up in a dimly lit kitchen and my back was pressed painfully against the counter top, his hands too hard on my hips, thumbs digging in to the tender hollows, and his body trapping me, pinning me, thrusting, pounding against me.

"Stop!" I whimpered, before I could bit my tongue. I flinched for the blow that would follow.

But nothing came. The hands on my hips were gone. The pressure against my body disappeared and with it the ghost impression of the kitchen counter on my back faded. I was on my hands and knees, on a bed, not standing up in a kitchen. It was Carlisle's golden eyes looking worriedly back at me not Charles dark brown with pupils blown out. Charles was gone, hundreds of miles away with no claim on me anymore. I was a thousand times stronger than he was and the beautiful man looking up at me with guilt creeping into his amber eyes was my loving husband.

Carlisle had meant it. At one word from me he had let me go, given me back control and freedom. There wasn't even a moment of hesitation or one last grasp. The word had bound him just as he said it would. For a moment we were completely still as my mind raced through all of this. My heart surged with love for the man between my arms, weighing in my chest comfortably while the warmth in my core became demanding.

"Oh," I said softly.

Then I was kissing him again, all of my reservations aside. I lowered myself onto his body, pressing my hips where his hands had pressed them moments before but something was inexplicably different. Tentatively his hands returned to where they were, but he was still holding back. It angered me more than I thought it should, and pulling away from his lips I growled. The sound did strange things to his body, contorting his face in a look of painful longing.

"I want you," I growled at him, rolling my hips against his and he gasped. Every noise of pleasure and ache sent the burning inside me hotter. Lowering my lips to the spot on his neck where I had placed the last kiss I growled one last word, "now!"

It was like watching a rope snap. His hands became sure and stead on my hips, firmly guiding me to him. I couldn't hold back the gasp of surprise and shocking pleasure when he found my opening. He didn't pull me toward him though I felt his hands shaking and his breath coming short. Carlisle let me slide myself slowly lower over him at my own pace, taking in every inch. I rolled my hips, feeling him inside me and against me. I watched his face, his eyes half lidded with pleasure and reacting to every slight movement.

He followed my rhythm, as I started slow, moving against him. His hands ran up and down my sides, caressing every inch that he could reach, one settling on my back and the other on my hip as I picked up speed, with my growing confidence. Suddenly it wasn't just pleasure driving me but a need I didn't recognize, strange and new it took hold of me like thirst and drove me faster and faster. It didn't matter where I was or why, all I knew was Carlisle moving against me, giving me what I needed most.

Hitting the climax was like falling only a million times better. It was plunging into the lake to see the beautiful swirls of the bubbles that followed. It was like blowing dust into a ray of sunshine and feeling the golden swirls in every inch of my body. It was my hand in Carlisle's hair, his scent in my nose and mouth, his taste on my lips, his skin against mine, _nothing _between us and knowing his every thought was on me.

I surfaced slowly out of ecstasy to see his beautiful golden eyes. His hands moved up to cup my cheek and brush curls of my hair over my shoulder. His finger tips against my bare skin made me shiver wonderfully and to my surprise he moaned at the movement of my body, still pressed against his.

"Oh, Esme," he breathed my name and I smiled. I felt an entirely new and very welcome feeling of possessive satisfaction. This beautiful, perfect man underneath me was mine in every way possible and I was his.

Reluctantly I sat up and slid myself free of him, shifting over to lay out on the covers beside him. My limbs felt heavy and full of liquid instead of muscle. I was as close to physically tired as I had felt since being changed. I was still happily floating down from the rush of our love-making and in no hurry to escape it.

"Are you alright?" Carlisle's question surprised me and I turned to look at him.

"Yes! Yes is… is not enough," I fumbled for words, "I'm… I don't even know how to say… I've never felt better than this!" But as the words passed my lips I knew they were a lie. I had only one experience that was better and it burned in my memory with a terrible guilt. The taste of human blood outshone the moment if only for the one instant of perfect gratification when the thick warm liquid hit my throat. "Almost, never better…" I admitted in a whisper.

"What…?" His question trailed off and he quickly pressed his lips together. "But not bad?" He asked me.

"Th—this? You were… you were worried that I didn't enjoy myself?" I asked him.

"To be honest I… I found it hard to think of anything but the way you… the way you seemed to want me." He chuckled. "I knew how much _I_ wanted _you. _But I wasn't prepared for how much I wanted _you_ to want _me._"

I laughed and grinned at him, shaking my head against the covers.

"Is that funny?" He asked me.

"No, it's… it's the same for me." I sighed and happily closed my eyes, listening to his breathing. I knew I was completely naked, laid out before him and vulnerable, but it felt intrinsically right. Why had I so recently been scared of this? I propped myself up on my elbow, already feeling recovered.

Carlisle was lying back with his eyes closed. His left arm was at his side between us and his right was above his head, fingers half curled. I let my eyes wander down his chest, his hips, his cock glistening with my own liquid, his long muscled legs and then back up, following every line. I wished suddenly I had my sketchbook. I locked every line into my perfect memory so I could draw him later, just like this. I was sure I could capture his body but I doubted I could do justice to the look of serenity on his face. His eyes opened to meet mine.

"What are you thinking, love?" he asked me.

"I'm thinking… I love it when you call me that. I'm thinking you're beautiful and I don't know how I'll ever let you get dressed again. I'm thinking I was foolish for wanting to stay outside because I'm happier now than I was then. I'm thinking I couldn't have dreamed this up so I can't be asleep and I'll never wake up. This is the first day of the rest of my eternity with you and I'm impatient." I laughed at myself. All the words that I had struggled to get out today were finally starting to make it to my tongue. I reached out and took his left hand from the covers between us, lifting it to my lips. I pressed a kiss to the golden band there, my physical claim on this godlike creature.

"I feel a bit like a thief," I said with a coy smile.

"What have you stolen, little thief?"

"Your love," I whispered, leaning over to kiss him. He chuckled as I pulled away and shook his head.

"My virginity maybe," he sighed, "but my love was always yours."

"That—that was your first…" I gaped at him. "You never said!"

"It didn't seem important." He shrugged, still smiling.

"But… you seemed so sure of yourself." I muttered. I was remembering my first fumbling nights with Charles, in the time before he had become violent and demanding but even those had been nothing close to the experience I'd just had.

"I am a doctor," Carlisle reminded me, propping himself up on his elbows to kiss my cheek. "I do know something about how this works."

"They teach these things in medical school?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I wouldn't call it _required_ reading but it was informative," he replied and leaned over to kiss my neck.

"What else did you learn?" I asked him.

"Only theories really." The breath of his words rippled over my sensitive skin and I bit back a moan at my lips.

"Perhaps we should test them in practical application, for educational purposes of course," I suggested, lowering myself back to the bed and he followed me. He reached one arm over to hold my waist.

"Are you ready for that?" He asked. In answer I trailed one hand up his arm from my waist to his shoulder, down the smooth ridges of his back over his hip and forward. His groan became a growl when my hand closed around his length and slid up to the base of his shaft slowly.

"You seem to be," I murmured right beside his ear, feeling him growing harder under my hand.

"If you are," he whispered, pulling back to look into my eyes. He judged my face, searching for any hesitation but there was none to find. I slid my other hand between his side and the duvet, gently pushing him overtop me. He moved cautiously, drawn by the movement of my hand on his shaft but his eyes never leaving mine. I parted my legs for him, shaking again but this time with anticipation.

"My wonderful husband," I said, "please, make love to me."

Carlisle's passionate lips found mine and he lowered himself down to me. My last coherent thought was of Irina and what she had said to me. I knew my memories of Charles weren't gone and I would still have to fight them for years to come but I didn't have to give that man anything else. I was starting to take away his power over me, little by little. Letting Carlisle into my life and intimacy was one important step. It was one joy that Charles didn't and couldn't deny me anymore.

"I love you," I whispered to my husband just before he slipped inside of me.

"And I love you," he whispered back, his left hand brushed back my hair and lifted my face to meet his lips as he gave me everything I wanted and more.

_._

_Though twilight's gloom lies still ahead  
__I shall feel neither fear nor dread,  
__But walk the path laid out for me  
__With faith in fate's fine strategy;  
__For her design brought me to you  
__And her intent will see us through.  
__Thus what ordeals await us there,  
__Hand in hand, their pains we'll share_

_._

The End

* * *

Author's Note: So I have some Epilogues (yes plural) that go through the first years of their marriage and Edward leaving and returning (and maybe further). If you want to see those or have requests for other moments you want me to write please leave a review or a message. Hope you enjoyed it. -Ember


	13. Epilogue 1

Author's Note: I know it's been a while since I posted this story. I got caught up in the end of semester sh...stuff that happens. Here's a little Epilogue. There's more to come. Hope you enjoy. -Ember

* * *

Epilogue 1: Homecoming

.

**Esme**

.

Carlisle pulled the car up beside our little house and I smiled at the familiar sight, even wrapped in ice and snow as it was. The windows showed a light on in Edward's room throwing a warm square of light onto the white frosted lawn. I sighed.

"As sad as I was to leave the cabin, I'm happy to be home. I hope Edward hasn't been too lonely without us," I said. Carlisle was looking over the steering wheel up at the house as well.

"I think he might have even enjoyed the quiet after being crowded with so much company recently."

"Well I missed _him_," I said, hurrying to get my coat. I didn't really need it but the white dress I was wearing wouldn't have been comfortable if I wasn't the same temperature as the falling snow. Before I could get the coat on though, Carlisle was around the side of the car, opening my door and lifting me out into his arms.

"Oh! I thought we already did this part," I said with a laugh as he started carrying me toward the house.

"Mrs. Cullen," he admonished and I smiled wider, "this will make the third time I have carried you over the threshold, wrapped in white but only the first time I have done so with you smiling."

"The third?" I asked, trying to think back over the past week since he first carried me into the little cabin. My worries that had kept the smile from my face then seemed silly now.

"When I first brought you to my home," he answered. I realized why I didn't remember it. I had been unconscious from the injuries of my fall.

"It seems like a long time ago but it was really only a year and a half."

"They've been the happiest days of my life and I anticipate more happy days to come."

"I feel the same," I said as he opened the door and carried me into our little house. "Welcome home, Dr. Cullen."

"He hasn't graduated yet…again." Edward said from the doorway of his room. Carlisle quickly put me down, sensing what I wanted. I happily threw my arms around Edward, holding him tightly.

_I missed you,_ I thought to him.

"Only a little, I'm sure," he laughed.

_Well,_ I thought back to the few time Carlisle and I had left the loft bedroom to hunt or half heartedly attempt to take a break from…

"Yep, not that much," Edward said with a pained look on his face.

"Oh," I quickly covered my mouth as if I could take back the thoughts I hadn't given audible voice to. From Carlisle's sheepish expression his thoughts had been on a similar track. "Ummm… We should get our bags."

"Yes!" Carlisle jumped on the distraction.

"I'll get them," Edward said, shaking his head. "You two should go see what the sisters left you."

"What?"

"Your wedding present, it's in the bedroom," he said and disappeared out into the snow.

"What could they have left us?" I wondered. Carlisle took my hand and we curiously made our way to the back of the house. Peeking into the room that had been mine I caught sight of Carlisle's desk. _Why did they move that across the hall?_ I wondered before I was confronted with the reason. Gone was the small double bed that had been in his room, really only for show.

The bed that replaced it was nearly twice the size and build of solid dark wood. It was relatively plain in most of it's design but for the artful carving of the bedposts from their square beam to flowing, wavelike tops. The bed was made in a set of startlingly red sheets and a deep burgundy duvet. I laughed out loud.

"I need to order new sheets," I said shaking my head. "Who picked those out?" I looked around before I saw the white card on the nightstand. Carlisle picked it up and flipped it open with a small frown. Kate's jerky handwriting was at the top followed by Tanya's more gentle script. Irina's note was smaller than the other, at an angle and written hastily as if at the last minute. It read:

_If it's still standing in a month you're doing something wrong. __-__Kate_

_Ignore her. We hope you enjoy it. __–__Tanya_

_White sheets are in the linen closet. Tanya can be thoughtless too. __–__Irina_

"Those three," Carlisle said, shaking his head but the hard line of his lips was tugging up at the ends.

"It is a rather thoughtful if… somewhat inappropriate gift," I said, sitting on edge of the bed.

"Entirely inappropriate," he muttered and put the card back on the nightstand.

"But they are good friends."

"Yes, they are." He agreed. In the living room we heard Edward shut the door and his footsteps approaching at human speed. He came in grinning.

"Do you like it?" He asked. Carlisle threw his son a look that silently asked why Edward felt that question was necessary.

_I love it even if I do think it's a bit of an extravagant and very private gift, _I thought to him and Edward just shook his head.

"You know it's creepy when you two do that?"

"Do what?" Carlisle asked.

"Think the same thing at the same time," he said grinning. I shared a quick glance with Carlisle and saw the same discomfort in his expression that I felt.

"Alright!" Edward said, holding up his hand. "Sorry, back to never telling anyone what I hear. Promise."

_Thank you, Edward._ I smiled at him. I loved Carlisle but there were still some thoughts that were better to be kept private.

"I'm a little insulted you don't trust my discretion though," he grumbled. "I was hoping after you realized how stupid the dance you've been playing for month really was you'd ease up on the gag order."

_Maybe for the really important things, _I thought timidly. "We needed to get there in our own time," I said aloud.

"And we had different issues to work out," Carlisle added but there was a relenting expression on his face.

"Thank you," Edward said, trying and failing to suppress his cocky grin. "It's good to have you home." He turned and left with an oddly bittersweet look on his face.


	14. Epilogue 2

Epilogue 2: Red

.

**Carlisle**

.

It was surprisingly hard to go back to class and even harder to sit through a three-hour seminar, harder still when the seminar was on the Spanish Flu. I remembered it. I didn't need to be told what was done wrong or right. I had lived those mistakes and witnessed the problems. I read every article I could get my hands on about it and nothing said in this particular lecture was going to impress me. The world wasn't prepared for another outbreak of that scale and it could have been much worse. What needed to change was at a managerial level that hardly anyone in the large lecture hall would be able to influence much less achieve. Worse still. It was my first lecture after returning from our honeymoon. Esme had gone to her school the afternoon of our return and when she got home happily joined my discussion with Edward of the books he'd read in our absence. Soon after that I'd left for the lecture I was currently enduring with her list kiss still burning on my lips. It was a constant distraction as the lecture droned on about atrocities in the abstract.

Yes, it was much easier to think about Esme and going home to her arms than the hundreds of dead and dying my immortal memory preserved. It was easier to think of how Esme smelled and tasted and the way she licked her lips, tongue flowing across the silky pink of her orifice. It had hardly been a day since our last desperate lovemaking on the couch of the little cottage before we finally left, one last moment alone that had made us late returning to Rochester.

In all honesty that was my fault. We had been dressing to leave and she'd rummaged around in her suitcase before pulling out a light pink dress. I saw the neatly folded clothes flop back in their ordered stack and a flash of white. Curiously I reached across the trunk by the railing and dug into her suitcase.

"Carlisle?" She looked at me curiously. I fished out the white dress, a soft cotton simple one she had made back in Ashland. She had sewn a complicated pattern of ruffles on the bottom and celebrated her success with fine motor control. The day she wore it was the first day I could really call her eyes tawny instead of umber. I held the white dress out to her and she raised one delicate eyebrow and smirked.

"Are you telling me how to dress now?"

"Only asking, beloved." I assured her, "I would never presume to tell you about fashion."

"Well in that case," she said and dropped the pink dress back into her suitcase. Many people would have said we were too pale to wear white but something about the way it looks with her hair and the shade of her lips was gorgeous to me. The setting sun, coming in the front window of the cabin caught her as we left and I'd been powerless in the face of so much beauty. There couldn't be anything more beautiful than her face in rapturous passion throwing rainbows, white dress falling off her shoulders, her hair lit up honey gold and her eyes dark with desire I was so happily sating. I wondered if she would wear white more often if I told her how much I loved it on her.

Around me people started getting up and I shook my head out of thoughts of Esme's lips and sunlight rainbows off her skin. I could finally go home!

Edward would probably be there though, I told myself as I drove. I tried not to groan. When I reached home he was leaving out the front door and held his hand out to me. His expression was resigned overtop the smile he was trying to hide. Catching that last thought he gave up and grinned.

"Keys, old man. I'm giving you space and you're giving me the car."

_Please, don't break it,_ I thought to him and he chuckled.

"Don't break any furniture," he replied and accepted the keys. I rolled my eyes.

_Thank you, son,_ I replied.

"Thanks for waiting until I'm out of earshot," he shot back with a meaningful look.

_I'll do my best, but no promises,_ I chuckled, opening the door in time to catch my beautiful wife in my arms. She clung to me enthusiastically and kissed me passionately on the doorstep.

"I missed you," she gasped between breathless kisses.

"You have no idea," I groaned. I knew she could feel just how much I wanted her already through my pants and her thin dress. "Perhaps we should take this inside?" I suggested and she nodded vigorously.

"I think Edward might be mad at me. I really tried to control my thoughts," she said walking backward through the house and leading me by my hands. I left my bag, hat, coat, and shoes in a trail from the door.

"I don't' envy you the challenge," I moaned as she kissed me in the door of our bedroom, standing up on her tiptoes. Esme's nimble hands undid my tie and let it slide to the floor. I reached up and pulled out the tie holding back her hair. She danced out of my arms before I could get a hold on her body, leaving me with just the ribbon.

I noticed her feet and legs were bare and I sighed as I stepped into her embrace just beside the bed. She was quick to remove my shirt and belt, but I took a little longer with the buttons of her dress. I could feel bare skin all the way down her back. I was willing to bet she wasn't wearing anything underneath the dress and it made me shiver with longing.

I slipped the dress off her shoulders and yes she was gloriously naked beneath it. I pushed her gently back and she fell willingly onto the colorful sheets. Her pale skin was white against the vivid red color of the silky material. Her hair fanned out, looking pale against the rich color. I tried not to remember how the color darkened as it soaked up bright red blood or rivers of her liquid life running from the punctured skin where bone jutted out unnaturally.

I crawled onto the bed above her bending down to kiss her neck, loosing myself in the tempting smell of her immortal body, and she gasped, hand roaming over my bare chest, leaving trails of tingling electricity instead of hot fire.

I leaned back to look into her eyes. They shone murky dull gold from thirst and desire, too close to the color of the burgundy duvet. I tried not to remember what her eyes had looked like the first night of her life, as red as the blood dried on her pale skin and staining her dress. I tried not to see her horrified face pulling away from a man's neck, lips brilliant red, the color of the bed sheets and her eyes glowing crimson. I sucked in a breath and gulped. Esme froze underneath me and her face turned to confusion.

"Carlisle?" she asked me in a whisper. "What's wrong? D-did I do—"

"No," I was quick to cut her off, "no, Darling it's not that. It's…"

"What?" She pulled her arms in over her chest and it hurt to see her so self conscious with me.

"It's the color," I sighed. "It's… It reminds me of too many painful things."

She turned to look at the sheets beside her head, her neck bared to me and I held in a groan of desire. I loved when she submitted to me this way, opening herself up to my passion but even then the red was distracting. She plucked at it and frowned.

"I've seen you covered in red before, Love," I explained, not trying to keep the shame out of my voice, "and… it was one of the worst nights of my life even if it did mean I could keep you at my side forever… it… was not a pleasant experience."

"Oh," She said, eyes full of understanding. "Irina said there were other sheets in the closet. I'll change them quickly," She offered.

I sighed and rolled off of her, loath to let her move away from me but knowing that I would be distracted if I didn't. I watched her as she left the room, taking in the sight of her graceful walk with nothing to hinder my eyes. She returned and saw me staring.

"Like what you see?" She asked me coyly and I let out a long breath.

"You know I do," I replied while she stripped the bed. I loved the new angles it gave me to look at her and marveled at how comfortable she was to be exposed around me. She kept looking up at me curiously while she changed the sheets. I gathered myself enough to help her and I threw the red ones into the closet unceremoniously. Tanya did love theatrics but did get carried away sometimes. I shook my head at the thought. When I looked back at the bed, finally made up in white, she was lying on her side, one hand on her hip and her head propped up with he other. She looked languidly casual and the soft smile on her lips was not seductive or purposefully alluring only kind. Still the image of her there waiting for me was enough to make me dizzy with need.

"Do you still want to do this?" She asked.

My answer was little more than a growl. I was with her in a flash, rolling over with her in my arms until she was on top of me.

"I'll take that as a yes," She replied, sitting up on top of my hips and her hands running down my chest to the button of my pants. I loved when she submitted to me but right at that moment I wanted this beautiful woman to take me. I wanted to be hers, what ever it was that she needed. She was the one person who had woken up my lonely heart and she had owned it ever since. I was hers as much as she was mine and she deserved to know that and claim it.

"Yes, Beloved, always, please always," I said to her. She smiled with dark eyes.

"Always," she whispered back.

* * *

Author's Note: Another Epilogue. There are a few more. Leave me a review if you're interested. -Ember


End file.
